


Forging Ahead

by Wishfulthinking1979



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Action/Adventure, Anakin Skywalker Needs a Hug, Angst, Angst and Humor, Developing Friendships, Family Feels, Feels, Fluff and Humor, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Leia and Anakin strife, Piett and Veers epic friendship, Piett has a gift with people, Politics is exhausting, The Lady is perfect, You can get colds in space, but they grow, developing the New Republic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:35:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 111
Words: 279,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23809237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wishfulthinking1979/pseuds/Wishfulthinking1979
Summary: This is a bunch of one shots set in my au, following on from the events in He Who Sheds His Blood With Me. I just wanted to show all those little behind the scenes moments of how the Alliance and Death Squadron could possibly learn to work together. And those problems pale in comparison to the Skywalkers working out their problems. :) Admittedly, Piett is my favorite, so he'll feature.Also, the Lady Ex has her own opinions as well. Just a heads up.I'm very happy to hear any prompt ideas from you. :)
Relationships: Anakin Skywalker & Luke Skywalker, CC-1010 | Fox & Anakin Skywalker, Firmus Piett & Anakin Skywalker & Maximilian Veers, Firmus Piett & Maximilian Veers, Leia Organa & Firmus Piett, Leia Organa & Luke Skywalker, Leia Organa/Han Solo
Comments: 1787
Kudos: 392





	1. Politics is exhausting

**Author's Note:**

> One of the good things about this quarantine, is that my passion for writing was rekindled. And for some reason, I am in love with this idea of looking at Anakin and his officers and the ways that they could have overthrown the Emperor. It's like someone turned on a firehose in my head, loaded with ideas. Not only am I working on a THIRD story with Veers, Piett and Vader (and the Lady herself), but I have all these ideas for one shots! Maybe there's something in my water.... :)
> 
> I have loved reading in this fandom for some time, but never thought I'd write in it. So thank you for encouraging me as I blow the rust off of my writing brain. Enjoy!

Luke paused as everyone else filed out of the conference room. 

_ Was it possible for Force sensitives to get worse head aches than other people? He should ask Leia.  _

He supposed he should be grateful that everyone was alive and that no violence (physically at least) had broken out. 

These initial meetings between the Alliance command, politicians, and the Imperial command were nearly as much fun as climbing vines on Dagobah had been. 

_ Bugs and sweat and poisonous plants and the sweltering heat. Was he getting nostalgic for that? _

Of course, he wasn’t the only one who was exhausted by this.

Across the large round table, Admiral Piett was allowing himself to lean his head on his hand, looking grey. General Veers stood nearby, a hand on his shoulder. 

The man his Father had chosen as the chief--diplomat, liaison, go-between--had an apparently endless well of patience. Anakin knew his men well. And as Piett had been the longest serving officer under Darth Vader, Piett knew a great deal about diplomacy. 

He had weathered increasingly insulting remarks regarding the Imperial forces which had even the stone faced Veers starting to crack. 

When it became apparent that even Leia and Piett between them were going to be hard pressed to prevent it degenerating into a shouting match, the Admiral had tabled the rest of the agenda and sent everyone back to their respective ships. 

He looked up, hazel eyes meeting blue.

“You look like I feel, Commander,” he commented wearily. 

Luke chuckled without humor. 

“I was thinking the same thing, Admiral.” 

“And  _ I _ was thinking mostly unprintable thoughts,” put in Veers. “Let’s go Admiral. Venka can take part of your shift tomorrow.”

“I’m reasonably sure you don’t have the authority for that, Max” Piett said, rising stiffly. The lights above suddenly flashed a deep green that Luke had never witnessed before. 

“Et tu, Lady?” Piett said, shooting a glance at the ceiling as he and Veers came around the table toward Luke. 

“Let’s go Skywalker,” Veers added with a wave of his hand. “You’ll join us.”

“I’m not sure you have the authority for  _ that _ either,” Luke replied, falling into step with them anyway.

“Hmm. I’m not sure about that now that we’ve become one big friendly force. What do you think, Firmus?”

“Sorry, Max, what did you say?” 

Veers shot a look at Luke, that of the long-suffering friend. He was all too familiar with it-- he made it himself toward Han often enough. 

“I said, Admiral, that don’t you think I have the authority to command Skywalker now that our militaries are working together?”

“He’s a pilot,” Piett said automatically, rubbing a hand over his forehead as they reached his quarters. “You’re army. So no, you still can’t give him orders.” 

The three men entered the Admiral’s quarters and Luke looked around curiously, having never seen them before. 

Mostly Imperial grey, but there was a large brown sofa and two comfortable armchairs as well as a small collection of little green trees on a shelf under a large round mirror. Veers was heading to the dark wood cabinet near the sofa with the unerring movement of a man who knew this routine well. 

“Come in, Commander,” Piett said, ever polite, even when exhausted, and motioned Luke to one of the armchairs. 

Veers turned and set three cut glasses on the coffee table, a large bottle of something red-gold in his hand. He poured some into each, handing Piett the first and Luke the second. He then sat on the sofa, wrestled his boots off and stretched out, in a very comfortable and practiced routine. 

Luke sat and leaned his aching head back against the top of the chair. 

_ Force. That felt great.  _

Piett allowed himself to undo his jacket partway and crossed his legs, leaning back himself, though his dignity was not about to let him remove his own boots. 

Luke took a sip of his drink and enjoyed the spicy, golden burn. 

“Well Admiral, you’d give Lando a run for his money when it comes to taste in alcohol. This is marvelous.”

Piett saluted him with his glass and a small smile.

Veers snorted from the sofa. “I assume you mean Calrissian. I think, Skywalker, that the Admiral can manage better than a  _ gambler.” _

“You’d be surprised, General,” Luke replied mildly. 

“How are you finding your accommodations, Commander?” Piett asked after a moment.

Luke had chosen to stay on his Father’s flagship in an effort to both be available when Anakin visited, as well as to help smooth things between the Imperials and the Alliance. Leia had  _ not _ been impressed with this decision but Luke was not to be deterred. 

“Very comfortable, Admiral thank you.”

“So,” said Piett, studying the liquid in his glass. “Do we have a hope in  _ Nine Hells _ to make this huge and messed up endeavor of ours work?”

“I would like to point out that Madine’s beard is a galactic crime,” said Veers, arm over his face. “It was his idea to use that radioactive orange for your flight suits wasn’t it?”

“It may have been,” Luke said cautiously. 

“I have a bet on it with Venka, Skywalker, you have to give me better than ‘may have been’.” 

Luke smiled. “I’ll ask Leia.”

“Good man, Commander.”

Piett let out a long suffering sigh.

“I know, I know, Firmus, you have the weight of the galaxy on your shoulders. All right, Skywalker, help me out so that our intrepid Admiral here doesn’t order the Lady to eliminate all the Alliance ships.”

A bright sherbet hue flashed from the Admiral’s data pad on the table. 

“It’s not that amusing,” Piett remarked to the ceiling. “We’re working on building something here, not destroying it.”

Luke had been dying to ask and the alcohol made him bold.

“Sir, your ship….may I ask…?”

Piett regarded him steadily. 

“You may ask, Commander and I may not answer.”

_ All right then. Luke had felt that strong protective flare from the Admiral. Perhaps his Father could shed some light on this special ship.  _

Luke nodded. “All right then. Yes, sir, I think this will work out. I know that the politicians are...challenging…”

Another snort from Veers.

“...and that’s more Leia’s field than mine.”

_ “Leia, _ ” whispered from the sofa. “That’s never not going to be strange.”

“Veers, let the man finish, if you could perhaps occupy your mouth with my alcohol?” Piett said politely, but in tones that would make young ensigns tremble. 

“Don’t mind if I do,” said the General shamelessly, sitting up to pour. 

“I think,” said Luke smiling at the deep friendship on display in front of him, “that the fact I’m sitting here with the most senior officers of the Imperial fleet, drinking and having a friendly conversation, gives me more hope than anything else that we can make this work.”

The two men stared at him, momentarily silent. 

“Well,” said Piett. “You have a point there, Commander.” He raised his glass.

“To the future.”

Veers and Luke raised their glasses as well. 

“To the future.”


	2. Tea with a princess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Veers may be onto something when he calls Piett a 'Vader whisperer'

He had been searching for Madine, and thus had entered the lounge that he had designated for the Reb---for the Alliance leadership and political representatives when they were aboard the Executor. 

It was quiet at the moment, the dark carpet hushing his footsteps and the lighting set to imitate an afternoon hue, even though stars continued by outside the massive viewing windows. He didn’t see anyone at first, but then, her petite form was dwarfed by the massive features of the room. 

He turned, intending to leave quietly and allow her some privacy, but he must have made a sound (or her unique  _ heritage _ informed her of his presence) and she turned to look at him, eyes a tell tale red. 

_ Ah. Well, this was awkward. _

“I beg your pardon, your Highness, I didn’t mean to intrude. Excuse me,” he bowed slightly and turned but her voice stopped him.

“There’s no need to apologize Admiral, it’s your ship. I should have left some time ago, I just couldn’t face….” she trailed off. 

He hesitated.  _ Kriff, he was rubbish at this. But his innate manners couldn’t just leave it. _

“I can send for a shuttle and a pilot, your Highness if you like.”

“No!” She looked slightly abashed. “I mean, not yet, please Admiral I  _ cannot _ face them at the moment.”

And Piett realized that by ‘them’ she meant her own colleagues. He recalled they had convened a private meeting here today. It had not gone well then. 

He wished Skywalker was here. It was his sister after all and he was so very much better at these sorts of discussions in general. But the Princess was now twisting her own small fingers into knots and looking miserable and small. 

_ Damn it. If Veers found out, he would give that stupid little smirk and mutter something about ‘Vader whisperer’. But he couldn’t leave it like this. _

Piett pulled out the chair on the other side of the small table. “May I?”

“Of course, Admiral.” 

“I take it that things did not go smoothly.”

“Well, when you put Madine in a room with Fey'lya that is a given. But add to it some sensitive egos in the upper military levels who are not particularly...  _ fond _ of working with Imperials and have had different command standards…”

_ Didn’t he know it. His own meetings had been to calm rants about disorder and lack of discipline, etc. from many of his officers.  _

“...and I am just weary of my….of Vader’s repeated attempts to…” she stumbled to a halt, recalling perhaps to whom she was speaking. 

“I’m sorry, Admiral you really didn’t ask for all of this.”

“It sounds nonetheless as though you need to say it.” He signalled a serving droid and placed an order. 

“I love Han, General Solo that is, but he starts on his rants and I don’t like making him upset when we discuss this. And  _ Luke _ ….sometimes Luke is so full of farmboy optimism I just want to throttle him!” 

Piett had a sudden image of the princess raising her hand, her fierce anger reminding him of another Skywalker, but picturing her tiny form, lifting the Commander by the Force….

And he snorted. 

He was shocked at himself and he had clearly startled the princess who was gazing at him in some trepidation.

“I apologize your Highness, I just...I, ahem, had a mental image of you throttling your brother. I am terribly…”

“No,” the Princess said, a slow smile spreading on her face, “you’re right. This Force damned temper came to me and not Luke.”

And that was the closest he had ever heard her come to admitting her heritage. 

The droid hovered over and Piett took the two mugs it offered him. He set one in front of the princess and took a sip of his own. 

She lifted it and inhaled. “Oh. That’s lovely. What is it?”

He was pleased. “That, your Highness, is Axxilan spiced tea.”

She took a sip and considered him, with huge brown eyes, over the rim.

“Your home planet I believe Admiral?”

“Indeed.”

“When were you there last?”

“Mmm. 8 years ago I believe.”

“That’s quite a long time.”

  
  
“There has been a war,” he replied mildly. 

She smiled. “True. And you’re the Admiral. May I ask you about yourself?”

He was startled. “I---of course your Highness.” 

“How long have you served with Darth Vader?”

_ Well. He would need to tread carefully here. _

“I have been serving directly with him for roughly five years, your Highness.”

“And yet, you appear to be a sane and normal person.”

He smiled at her. “Thank you. General Veers has other points of view there, but we need not concern ourselves with that.”

She gazed at him assessingly. “Did you always want to join the navy, or were you forced to?”

“Forced to your Highness?”

“I am aware that not all those who served the Empire had a choice,” she said, a slight challenge in her voice.

“I wanted to join the navy from a young age. I love the stars, you see,” he explained. “I would watch at night and think that the only thing better would be to be among them.”

The princess bit her lower lip then took another sip of tea. He waited patiently. He was good at that. 

“This,” she said at last. “This is one of the most difficult things, Admiral. I am finding that many of my feelings have led me to make very sweeping generalizations. The Empire is guilty of so many atrocities…” she looked up at that as though waiting for him to challenge her. When he merely sipped his tea, she continued.

“...that I found it easier to assume all those who served it were evil too. I  _ knew  _ rationally that this wasn’t true. But…”

“It was easy to believe,” he finished. “Yes, we had our own propaganda about the Rebel Alliance.”

“And here I am,” she gestured at him, “having tea with my...with  _ Vader’s  _ Admiral, and finding that I rather like him.”

He flushed slightly. “Thank you, your Highness. The regard is mutual. You do like my tea after all.” 

They were silent for a moment, but the atmosphere had changed slightly. It felt easier, more comfortable.

The princess broke the silence. “I must be getting back before Han comes storming over here, blaster blazing.”

Piett quirked his mouth. “Does he really think we would harm the face of the Alliance, still?”

“Han has not got over Bespin, Admiral.” They gazed at each other in mutual understanding.

“Neither have I,” Piett said softly, then wondered at himself for saying it.

It was the princess’ turn to raise her eyebrows. “Well. I would like to hear about that sometime Admiral.”

They both rose. “I would like to have tea with you again,” she continued. “Would that...do you have time in your schedule perhaps...once a week…” the fiercely brave Rebel princess was becoming shy. 

“It would be my pleasure,” Piett said, warmly. “Perhaps we could work on some of our mutual… problems in these foundational steps toward a New Republic. Sometimes fewer voices allow more to get done.”

“I would appreciate that. Thank you, Admiral, you’ve been very kind.” And suddenly she was giving him a hug.

“Ah,” his frozen brain came up with eloquently, but he had enough presence of mind to awkwardly pat her back. 

“I’m sorry,” the princess said stepping back. “You just, have this...well I don’t know, but I’m glad Vader picked you.”

She was back in command--every inch the general and politician as she strode away confidently past….

“General,” she nodded to the tall man in the doorway, who was looking at Piett with worlds of mischief in his eyes.

_ Oh kriffing hell…… _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> totally making up how long Piett served with Vader. Cause I can :)


	3. Dejarik with Anakin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Playing any sort of game with a Force user has risks. Stop cheating Anakin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like to think that Piett and Anakin could have been friends after all the years of serving together. Piett, and maybe Luke from the Jedi side of things, would be the only one who has any concept of what Anakin has been through under the Emperor.   
> Thus, I give them that opportunity. :)

“We are quite clear on the ground rules, are we not, my Lord?” Piett asked, spearing a stare at the man opposite him at the table. They had decided roughly two months prior, that it really wasn’t fair to ask former Imperial officers to refer to Anakin as anything other than ‘my Lord’ rather than constantly making a mash-up of that and ‘General’. 

So, for the most part, the Imperials still referred to him as ‘my Lord’ while the New Republic troops did their best to say ‘General’. 

And one person called him ‘Father’. He longed for it to be two--- but they were a long way from  _ that _ . 

“Are you implying that I won’t follow them, Piett?” Anakin asked the Admiral, staring right back. After a three month stay on Kamino, his lungs had been replaced with a cloned pair and the freedom it afforded him still amazed him. He still had to use oxygen on occasion, but he could wait until he reached his quarters, usually at the end of the day, and do so. 

“I would never be so bold, my Lord,” Piett answered straight faced.

_ I absolutely am, he was thinking at Anakin.  _

And Anakin grinned, reflecting that a mere year ago, Piett indeed would not have dared to imply any such thing. For him to  _ think _ it deliberately at his former commander, was quite a change. Anakin had not felt such ease of friendship since….no best not to go there yet. It was still too tender and painful. 

“I will not use the Force, Admiral. Would you like the first move?” 

“I would,” the Axxilan replied and tapped the Dejarik board for a holographic rancor to appear on an outer white square. 

Anakin pondered his move. Then a Gungan moved onto a black space. 

The Admiral made a small noise and rested his chin against a fist, hazel eyes keen on the board. 

“So Luke tells me that some progress has been made in unifying the TIE and X-wing divisions.”

Piett glanced up. “Yes. That is probably the best news so far. Fel has been brilliant. Antilles seems to have some sense.”

“High praise indeed. All right, tell me the worst,” Anakin prodded, adding a Gamorrean to the board. 

Piett shot him a look. “Are you sure you want to hear it, my Lord? I do not want to burden you…”

“Is it a burden for you, Piett?”

He felt the Admiral pause. This was still new and uncertain territory for the man--being so used to hiding his feelings, never to reveal what he might be thinking to a Sith Lord who could throttle him for it.

“Rhetorical question Admiral, of course it is. I have put you in this position. I would like to hear how it goes.”

Piett moved a Bantha into position next to his Rancor.

“The politicians are slowing things down. I feel that if it were left purely to the militaries we would be much further along. Calrissian is surprisingly diplomatic, unlike Solo who says exactly what he’s thinking.”

“Yes, I have to question my daughter’s taste there.”

Anakin could feel Piett’s strong desire to avoid  _ that _ topic. Naturally then, the former Dark Lord wanted to poke at it. Anakin knew he was giving in to baser urges, but he did so love to bait his Admiral.

“Speaking of Leia….” he moved the Gamorrean to the next ring in. “Luke tells me that you and she have  _ tea _ once a week now.”

He felt Piett’s brain scramble madly as the impervious mask he had often worn serving Darth Vader came down.

“That...is true, my Lord.” He opted for brevity. Several more moves were made in silence while Piett’s tension grew.

It was too delicious. He really was a terrible person. 

“Do you care to tell me, Admiral,” he drawled slowly, “what exactly these meetings with my daughter are intended to accomplish?” 

He felt Piett’s heart rate spike, but again, he was not the Admiral of Death Squadron for nothing and he schooled his face with a masterful effort. 

“I...we find that much can be accomplished with two calmer heads rather than in meetings that can grow...tense, my Lord. I appreciate the princesses’ input on these negotiations.”

“Indeed, she is much like her mother that way.”

Piett was curious, but had clamped down hard on that instinct for too many years. He made another move. 

Anakin decided to play his master card, and after he had added a Wompa to the mix on the Dejarik board, he laid it out. 

“I do wonder Piett, why it would be necessary for my daughter to  _ embrace _ you after any of these...meetings.”

Horror filled eyes and at last the shields were down. Anakin allowed himself silent glee. Luke would disapprove mightily. 

“My...my Lord, it was  _ once. _ The princess was distressed, I…” Piett paused as Anakin allowed his grin to surface.

“You….are not actually angry.”

“Oh well observed, Admiral. I am sorry.”

“You’re not.” Piett’s temper was sparking now. 

“Well no, I’m not, because your reaction was  _ priceless. _ Admiral, my daughter is a grown woman and if she has found a friend in you, I can only approve of that as an example of her good taste.”

Piett wanted to appreciate this compliment but…

“You just said you questioned her taste due to Solo!” 

“Well, she’s young.”

Anakin made another move. 

“Dejarik.”

Piett stared at the board and back to Anakin, who could feel the Admiral’s dawning realization.

“You….you said all that to  _ distract _ me! You knew…”

“I didn’t use the Force.”

Piett scowled at him. Anakin smiled back, much of his satisfaction drawn from the fact that Piett even felt so free as to scowl at the former Sith Lord. 

With a wave of his hand, Anakin cleared the board of the characters. 

“Admiral. Do you not think I have known for many years the sort of man that I picked as head of my personal squadron? I trust you quite literally with my life. I am currently trusting you with two people who are worth far more than that. I confess that I...envy you. My daughter will not take comfort or affection from me. I am grateful that you can offer what I cannot.”

Piett was flushed as he always was when complimented. He looked down and then back up to gaze sincerely at Anakin.

“Give her time, my Lord. I think the princess cares a great deal. But you can appreciate more than anyone else how very complicated her feelings are on this matter.”

“Yes,” said Anakin softly. “Thank you, Piett.”

“Now, tell me about all the biggest headaches at the moment.”

"At the moment, my Lord? People who cheat at Dejarik."


	4. Admirals CANNOT get sick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The whole fleet has the cold from space. Cue administration nightmare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know why I love the idea of Leia and Piett being friends so much. I love writing Luke as friendly with these Imperials as well. But Leia and Piett are so fun to write together. I rather suspect that it has to do with Leia being very much her Father's daughter and who is better equipped to deal with Skywalker temper than our intrepid Admiral?   
> But he could use a little TLC too sometimes.....

Half the fleet had it. It had started after they left Dathomir, so one could only presume that the crew returning from shore leave had brought back a vicious virus.

Doctors throughout the fleet were getting overwhelmed and it was getting difficult to staff the crew to run the massive ships--Star Destroyers and Cruisers alike--when so many had called in sick. 

But they had to keep going. Various Imperial cells kept showing up, some at nasty surprising times and they needed to deal with that. Further, the galaxy needed to see that the Alliance was a force to be reckoned with before they could move on Coruscant itself. 

It didn’t seem to discriminate this virus. Species throughout the Alliance sections were getting as well. One exception was the Mon Calamarians, so that was something. But humans were hit hard. 

Piett was already operating a skeleton crew on the Lady’s bridge. Happily, because he had the Lady, things could be worse and she understood that he needed her much more than usual. Had his staff known just how much she controlled the bridge, they may have been nervous. But Piett trusted her implicitly. 

Which was good because he was  _ not _ ill, but he was tired from working far more overtime than usual. Henley had shot him a look when they had met to discuss the current numbers of infected crew and told him in no uncertain terms that he was to come to sickbay immediately if he felt the symptoms.

“I know you, Admiral,” he’d said, shaking his finger, “and you will no doubt attempt to work through this. Which will make it much worse.”

“Yes Doctor,” Piett had replied, a picture of sincere intentions. Henley had snorted. 

“You’ve become so much better at lying since you’ve been meeting with all the politicians, Admiral.”

“Thank you Doctor,” he’d called over his shoulder on the way out of Henley’s domain. 

He staggered slightly as he made his way to the pilot’s station. Had the ship moved suddenly? He paused near the pilot and pretended to be looking over his shoulder so as to steady himself.

He was  _ not _ ill. Just tired. His datapad flashed a message. The Lady was giving him his current temperature.  _ 102\. Kriff. _ The cough he’d been denying for about 24 hours finally ripped out of his chest like a Wompa. 

Several officers looked over at him. 

“Sorry,” he said, forcing a smile, “swallowed wrong.” 

The Lady had now listed the symptoms of the current virus on the datapad.

“ _ Stop _ ,” he whispered to her, confident she could pick it up. “I’ll be fine.” 

The final hour of his shift on the bridge felt eternal. 

When he handed off command he made it to the turbolift before his own chest attacked him and he doubled over panting through the sharp pain. 

_ Damn it.  _

The Lady was showing the route to sickbay on the datapad. 

“I am not doing that.”

She blinked the lights orange. She was irritated with him. 

“I’ll have to risk that, Lady. There is too much that needs to happen. Veers has been down for three days. My XO is just starting to feel human again and pretty soon I’ll be needing ensigns to run the whole bridge. I have cold meds in my quarters. I promise I’ll take those and then do the bay inspections.”

He knew she still wasn’t happy, but he made it to his quarters, drank two glasses of water and took the meds. His reflection was terrible. Well, he couldn’t do much about that. He did however, put on a fresh uniform if only for the placebo effect it had on him.

By the time he finished the bay inspection, he could no longer hide the cough. 

“Sir,” said his deck chief. “You really should get seen.”

And it said something that the cold stare he leveled at the man didn’t seem to phase him in the slightest. 

“It’s not that bad, Chief, thank you for the concern.”

The Lady noted that he had a message from Dr. Henley on his data pad. He ignored it. However, this meant that he might be hunted down. Where could he take refuge, just for a few hours without Henley….?”

The answer came to him. The Alliance lounge.

He made his way there, trying to pretend that his chest wasn’t feeling wound tight like a spring. He entered and found it quiet as he had hoped. The section toward the back would be perfect---half hidden by the Nabooan willows and it had the bonus of several sectionals and sofas. 

He made a note for the Lady to wake him in three hours and that he wasn't to be disturbed, then he made his way there. Only to stop short in dismay. 

“Oh Admiral, hello,” Princess Leia was seated with her legs crossed on one of the sectionals, data pads spread around her and a tray of what smelled like orange tanta buns on an ottoman in front of her.

“I hope it’s all right that I snuck over here. I had so much to get done and people kept finding me. I told Mon that I was coming over here.”

“Well, I won’t disturb you either your Hi…” and he was attacked again by the Wompas in his chest. 

When he could see again, the small princess was on her feet, looking at him in concern.    
  


“Admiral! Why aren’t you in sickbay?”

He straightened, gathering his forces. “Because you Highness, we don’t have the men to command this ship at the moment. I cannot be ill.”

He hoped that hadn’t sounded too desperate. 

She looked at him skeptically, hands on her hips.

“That sounded appalling, Admiral.”

  
  
“It was not my favorite experience. But as I said, I’ll leave you to it.”

“Give me one good reason not to com your sickbay right now.”

He stared at her. She  _ wouldn’t _ . 

She was Vader’s daughter. 

She  _ would _ . He gave one last defense.

“Your Highness, this is my ship, you have no authority to …”

“Oh don’t pull that with me, Admiral. As you have joined forces and become part of the New Republic Fleet, I am technically one of your heads of state.”

He stared at her dumbly and something in his face must have caused her to take pity on him.

“I know something about working through it out of necessity, Admiral. You were seeking refuge here, weren’t you?”   
  


“Yes,” he admitted. 

“All right,” she said, moving closer to look at him. Piett rarely got to feel tall and he was reminded again of the powerhouse in this small form. She placed a cool hand on his forehead and jerked back. 

“Kriff! You’re burning up!.” She snagged a data pad from her pile and typed in something. “Temperature 103.  _ Admiral _ . “

And he would not be made to feel guilty by this woman. 

“Here’s the plan,” she said, taking his hat. 

And. What. 

“I will aid and abet you in escaping sickbay, if you promise to do what I say.”

He weighed this and decided that she was the lesser evil next to Henley. 

“Very well.”

She took his arm and tugged him further into her little sanctuary. 

“That sofa is yours. Sit. Boots off. I assume your jacket needs to stay as beautifully crisp as you have it, so that should come off too. I shall commandeer supplies.”

She was moving so quickly his head hurt, placing his boots neatly at the end of the sofa, and taking his jacket from him to hang over the back of a nearby armchair. She then gave orders to a service droid and trotted off herself to the bar at the other end of the lounge, returning with a water pitcher and a glass, as well as a bar tender’s towel. 

“Your highness, I was just going to close my eyes for a bit.”

“And you shall, Admiral,” she said as though bestowing him with a great favor.  _ Force _ if she had been a Sith too, the Rebel Alliance would have been crushed years ago.

The droid returned with her supplies. 

“Here we are,” she said cheerfully, shaking out an afghan and he was  _ not _ tucked in by the princess of Alderaan. 

“These are supposed to help bring down your fever,” she said, handing him several pills and a glass of water. She waited expectantly until he had taken them. 

“All right.” She surveyed him with satisfaction, a job well done. 

“You rest. I’ll get my work done. Oh, one more thing.” 

He had already closed his eyes, but they flew open again when something  _ cold _ rested on his forehead and he found that she had drenched the bar towel in the cold water and placed it there.    
  


“Your highness…”

“Better?” she asked and  _ kriff it _ yes, it felt wonderful.

“You really don’t have to do all this,” he murmured, closing his eyes again. A little pat to his shoulder.

“My Father wouldn’t forgive me if we let anything happen to you, Admiral.”

_ Sheer self control kept him from reacting to that. She hadn’t realized her slip.  _

For a while he drifted, listening to her shift on her sofa, moving datapads and reading reports. Somewhere in there, he fell asleep.

  
  
  


“Firmus,” someone was holding his arm and shaking it gently.

“ _ Admiral _ Piett.” He opened his eyes, squinting slightly. 

“Do you have any idea just how big a poodoo storm you created?” Veers was looking down at him. 

“What? Why?”

“Why, he says. You went off duty six hours ago. In that time, Dr. Henley tried to reach you no less than 15 times, having been informed that you looked like walking death. And no one knew where you were. We’ve been looking for two hours. I am not as young as I used to be Firmus, don’t do that to me.”

“General, he is sick, don’t be so hard on him,” said another lighter voice, and the princess came into view over Veers’ shoulder. 

“Your highness, while I am deeply appreciative of your compassion here, this is the  _ Admiral of the Fleet _ ... When he goes missing, it causes some consternation. Believe me when I say, we know from experience.”

“Max,” Piett could hear the serious undertone in his friend’s words. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to escape Henley, and I thought if I just took a few hours here..” 

He broke off to cough up a lung. He had two, who needed the other one?

“Mm yes, that’s not one that you can just shrug off, Firmus. I’m taking you in, under sickbay arrest, Admiral.” 

He thumbed his comlink as the princess knelt near his head to replace the towel.

“Dr. Henley, we’ll need a team up here. Well, of course, he never does things by halves. I’ll make sure he stays put.”

“I surrender,” Piett said, smiling slightly. 

“Damn straight you do,” said Veers. But he smiled back. 


	5. Racing around the Fleet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's all fun and games until someone gets hurt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had so much fun with this one. Because, what WOULD happen if Piett was just done?

Piett gripped his hands tightly behind his back, doing his best to seem unconcerned and calm. He, along with much of the bridge crew, watched as the two fighters screamed by the viewport, diving in tandem at angles that seemed impossible, which indeed they may be for  _ normal _ pilots. 

The fleet was en route to Kuat, intent on taking the massive shipyards in the name of the New Republic. And several of the ships from both arms of their joint forces needed repairs. They had paused in this system to resupply from several different planets and the princess was supposed to be returning shortly from a diplomatic visit. 

Piett realized that he was actually  _ hoping _ to see the Millenium Falcon.

Well. 

That was a first for the ship that still gave him occasional nightmares. 

On the other hand, real life was currently providing a waking nightmare as two suicidal pilots went rolling and weaving through the fleet, coming within inches of scraping shields with the far mightier ships around them. 

The TIE advanced flew so closely by the Executor’s bridge viewport that Piett was sure the older Skywalker was giving him one of his insufferably cocky expressions, could he have seen them through the shielded canopy.

_ I hope you’re hearing my unprintable thoughts, my Lord. _

Piett, among a few others, had been privy to the increasingly competitive conversations between Commander Skywalker and his Father, whenever the older man came to visit the fleet. Piett was well aware that his commander was an exceptional pilot and clearly the fruit did not fall far from the tree. But the time had finally come where proof was needed, apparently, as to the superior pilot. And so over the rather strident objections of both Piett and the princess, the two pilots had each launched their respective fighters in a challenge around the fleet. Their coms were open and thus everyone (at least on the ship bridges) could hear their banter.

“Admiral!” called his comms officer. Piett turned to look at the man.

“Yes?”

“Admiral Venka is hailing sir.”

“Put him on my personal com.” The rest of the bridge didn’t need to hear Venka’s ranting.

“Admiral.”

“Venka. I’ve put you on my private channel.”

“Thanks for that. Piett, these  _ kriffing suicidal Jedi  _ are going to wipe out on any one of our shields! Can’t you  _ order _ them to stop???”

“Oh sure Venka,” Piett hissed softly at the viewport so as to keep the rest of the bridge from hearing. “I’ll tell the former Sith Lord and the hero of the Rebellion to stop it and play nicely. Don’t you think I  _ tried _ ?”

“Son of a  _ Hutt. _ ” Venka said. “Skywalker is flying  _ upside down _ about four feet above Lord Vader. Tell me they’re not going under the Alliance medical frigate in that formation…”

Piett pinched the bridge of his nose, the headache he’d been denying, roaring in at full force. 

“Venka, I already have plenty of stress without your commentary. Just… don’t watch.”

“ _ That’s _ your best advice?? Don’t  _ watch _ ?”

“Over and out, Rear Admiral.” 

Piett placed a hand on the bulkhead as he watched the two ships--now mercifully out in clear space--do a series of interwoven loops.

He had muted their conversation on his own bridge as his blood pressure would no doubt kill both him and everyone else if he was forced to listen to them crowing at each other any more. 

But….

_ Holy, kriffing hell. Were they both flying right at the Lady’s bridge? Wing tips nearly touching each other??? _

Piett tried not to look like he slapped the com. 

“My Lord, I don’t know if this action is the most advisable….”

“Don’t you trust us, Admiral?”

_ No, you son of a Hutt, but you know I can’t say that on comms. _

“My Lord….”

“Don’t worry, Admiral!” Skywalker’s sunny voice broke in. “We’re testing a rebound effect. It’s the moment right before the shields could scrape where…”

“ _ Commander.  _ I am familiar with the theory. I do not think testing it against the  _ Lady _ is the wisest….”

But he was interrupted by a familiar disk shape, sweeping in suddenly from the port side,  _ in between the two fighters and the Lady’s bridge.  _

“Yeeha!” came Solo’s jubilant tones. “Think I just won there, everyone!”

That. Was. It.

Piett swore he could have seen energy sparks between the Falcon and the Lady. 

“Lieutenant!” he barked.

“Sir?”

“Tractor beams!”

Frozen pause all around the bridge.    
  


“On...on which ship sir?”

“ALL of them!” 

“Aye sir.”

And there was suddenly a frenzy of swearing from all three pilots on the comms. Piett turned them off. 

“Bring them into the main bay, Lieutenant. Commander, you have the bridge.”

His men were gaping at him.  _ Was the Admiral really going to go and SCOLD a former-ish Sith Lord? And his Jedi son? _

Piett ignored this, straightened his hat with purpose, and marched off the bridge.

***

He was two corridors away when Veers fell into step next to him. 

“So…” began the General. 

“Do not try and stop me, Max.”

“Oh trust me, not trying to do that, Firmus. I’m coming along for the show.”

Piett glared. 

“I’ve said it before,” Veers commented, undeterred. “When you really lose it, you’re equal to Sith anger. I have to see this.”

Piett didn’t trust himself to answer his friend, saving his wrath for the ships just now being set into the Lady’s biggest bay. 

Piett planted himself centrally, hands behind his back and ramrod straight. They would come to him. 

The ships touched down and the Lady released them, giving a few blinks of the main lights in support of her Admiral. 

Skywalker and Solo had the grace to appear slightly abashed, though Solo had an all too amused grin on his face. The princess resembled a storm on the Kashyyyk mountains as she scowled at all three men. 

_ Piett could usually rely on her support when it came to Skywalker insanity. _

Piett waited silently. He found that to be one of the most intimidating things in his arsenal.

The older Skywalker appeared, his face also set, as he strode toward his admiral, the others following behind.

Piett could feel Veers cursing softly under his breath behind him. But his rage was white hot and he was not to be deterred.

“And just  _ WHAT _ , did you think that accomplished?” He said in glacial tones when Anakin was about 8 feet away.

“Irrelevant, Admiral,” the ex-Sith replied, coming into Piett’s space and towering over him. “How  _ dare you _ tractor my ship….!” 

Piett held up a gloved hand, and glared up at his commander.

“No. I have dealt with a great many things over the years, but  _ you _ will listen now.”

Solo choked and Skywalker’s mouth had parted slightly in awe. The princess was giving a small nod of approval.

“This is my ship just as much as yours, and you will not disrespect the Lady or the lives on her and the rest of this fleet...I’m not finished,  _ my Lord, _ with the kind of reckless tricks you were all committing out there. I can appreciate the friendly competition, but when it goes too far, I. Will. End. It.” 

His voice rang out through the bay. 

_ “Force, Firmus,” _ Veers breathed softly behind him. 

“Admiral…” It was just possible that Anakin might sound slightly conciliatory.

“And Force or not, I will end YOU, my Lord if you damage my ship, or get yourself killed!”

“Wouldn’t he already be…” Skywalker began and shut up when the princess glared at him. 

Anakin was smiling now.

“Piett, I would never hurt the Lady.”

“Damn straight you won’t.”

There was a pause.

But the former Dark Lord was always full of surprises. Several years ago, these would have been Piett’s last words. Now, however….

“I apologize Admiral, we’ll race away from the fleet next time,” and Anakin held out his hand. 

Piett schooled his face at the shock.  _ But no Force using adrenaline junkie was getting the best of this situation. _

He accepted Anakin’s hand and shook it.

“Thank you my Lord.”

As they all walked back out of the bay, Anakin fell into step with his Admiral.

“ ‘ _ Force using adrenaline junkie’, _ Admiral?” he said softly.

“It is impolite to snoop around in people’s heads, my Lord,” replied Piett coolly. 

Anakin laughed. 


	6. Might have beens are tricky topics

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The twins have a conversation on the Executor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The trouble with a story where Anakin lives is well everything. Because of course, he's done so many awful things. How do you cope with that? Should you have to cope with that? It's not simple black and white. So this is a slightly more serious chapter. I intend to explore this as the muse takes me--how can Anakin be part of life, when he dealt death for so long?

Luke sat on the walkway far above the action in the Lady’s main hangar bay, swinging his legs over the edge like a 12 year old and leaning his head on his arms, resting on the lower rail in front of him. 

In a rare moment from all the craziness of overthrowing an old corrupt government and attempting to set up a new, not so corrupt one, his sister was right next to him, warm against his side as the twins watched the Imperials below. 

It was just the two of them, Han and Lando having gone on a ‘special’ mission to some old smuggler friends. It was apparently the sort of crowd that didn’t care to be reminded of either the Empire or the Rebels, and so the two of them had requested that they not be accompanied. 

Leia hadn’t liked it, but understood the tactical nature of that decision. Now they watched as Veers put his AT-AT crews through their maneuvers and the Admiral kept an eye on the pilot simulators across the bay, coordinating a training exercise that involved TIE pilots working with their army counterparts. 

A younger commander was barking orders to the pilots. Luke understood from Piett, that he was being trained as well, in how to work with both forces. The Admiral himself would obviously be busy with other matters in a real conflict of this nature. 

But Piett was exceedingly good at tactics and strategies that involved his  _ entire _ force, not just the navy. Luke sensed this was part of the reason the Admiral was something of a legend in the fleet, not that he would hear anything of that. 

“Do you ever wonder what it might have been like?” he asked his sister, without taking his eyes off of the action below.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“If things had been different. If we had been raised by Fa...Anakin to think that the Empire was our life.” Leia was still not interested in hearing the ‘F’ word and Luke often had to dance around that. 

“I really don’t ponder that at all,” his sister said. “I have enough to think about with the  _ right now  _ and the  _ not yet _ .” 

“Fair. I was just thinking though….this is Anakin’s flagship. I might have wanted to serve on it. I always wanted to be a pilot. I think I would have been good enough to get here. I could be one of those guys down there right now…”

“....getting chewed out by the Admiral,” his sister giggled as they watched a hapless pilot make a stupid error and the simulator imitated him crashing with an AT-AT. Piett rarely raised his voice, but they could just hear his clipped, cutting tones as he gave his opinion on that move. 

“You forget I sort of  _ have _ been chewed out by the Admiral.”

Leia shot him a skeptical look. “You hid behind Vader while the Admiral reamed him out. I intend to remember that moment whenever I’m feeling depressed.” She sighed happily. 

“I was  _ not _ hiding! It was just clear that our Admiral needed to clear the air with...Anakin. It was amazing though.” He too smiled at that. 

Veers had hauled him and Han off to one of the officers’ lounges and stood them to some Corellian whiskey for quote ‘providing one of the best things he’d ever seen in his life’. It was the first time Luke recalled Veers spending any time with Han and it had seemed to go all right, though anything close to snow, ice, coldness in general, was avoided studiously. Hoth was still sensitive for both sides. 

“It is true though,” his sister continued, now taking interest in the topic. “We likely would have known General Veers and the Admiral at least from social functions. Do you think we would have lived on this ship?”

“I have to admit I don’t see us being raised here. Likely on Coruscant with tutors.”

“Mm. I would have hated that,” Leia responded. “If we’re doing a ‘let’s pretend’ I say that we would have been raised here. Dump us on a planet for any battles to keep us safe, and then back up here.” She paused.

“I like this ship,” she said quietly. 

Luke looked at her in surprise. “I thought you didn’t like anything about the Empire.”

“I thought that too. But now we’re living and working with these people, and…”

“Yes,” Luke put in. He understood. “They’re people too. It does make me glad that I was raised in the Outer Rim though, away from all the propaganda, brainwashing stuff.”

“Yes, I’m grateful that it was Bail Organa who adopted me,” his sister said, somewhat sadly.

Luke decided to steer her away from that topic.

“What would you have been doing then? The Imperial policies don’t have many women in the forces.”

“Oh you know me--that’s not my passion anyway. No, I'm sure I’d have been studying politics. Find a way to take everyone down from the inside.”

Luke burst out laughing. 

Veers inclined his head up to the walkway and shot him a look. 

“You’ll get us in trouble,” Leia chuckled. “They _are_ letting us be in here while they are working.” 

“I did volunteer to show the General a way to attack the AT-ATs from below. He wasn’t that keen.”

“Honestly, Luke of course he wasn’t.”

They watched as Veers gave more orders to his men and then turned to make his way across the bay to Piett. 

“That’s an odd friendship, don’t you think?” his sister asked, watching as the two men conferred. 

“Having seen it up close, I actually think it’s pretty great,” Luke replied. 

“Well all right, it’s just Veers is so cold and standoffish, while the Admiral is so… not.” 

“That was eloquent,” Luke remarked, smiling at her, but he noted his sister’s eyes soften as she watched the two Imperials. He’d picked this up from her emotions a lot recently. 

“You’re not going to start calling him ‘Uncle Firmus’ or anything are you?” he teased. 

“What? No! _Honestly_. But when it comes to good advice in dealing with our two fleets, he’s been terrific. Good advice in general, actually,” she added quietly. “He’s a good man, Luke, as in really genuinely moral. I never expected  _ that _ in the Admiral of Death Squadron.”

Luke chewed over whether to say what he was thinking and decided he wouldn’t get many more opportunities. 

“Leia, I do understand. I’ve told you how it was after Bespin. He helped me a lot. But has it occurred to you, that it says something about our Father---no don’t get all stiff--- that he chose someone like Admiral Piett to be his top officer?”

“I don’t like to think about it,” she said, everything in her tense, and wanting to flee. 

“I know you don’t,” he said gently. “And I won’t push. I know you have much more...baggage here than I do and it’s completely justified. Have...have you asked the Admiral about it?”

She was silent for a long time. “In bits and pieces,” she said at last. “I don’t want to put him in a more awkward position than he’s already in. But he’s given me to understand that one of the reasons Vader made him the liaison for our two sides is because he knew it would be too hard for me to deal with Vader all the time.” 

Luke digested this. “Leia…”

“I know what you’re going to say, Luke. That he’s trying to make it easier for me, trying to give me space. I know you say he feels guilt over what he’s done. Well  _ none _ of that can bring back those millions of lives!!”

“I know,” Luke said softly. “And so does he. It’s just….”

“What Luke? Spit it out.”

“Well, I’m not the one in the family good with words here. I just was thinking--you told me that your thinking changed from being too black and white. I dare say that you’d tell me the Admiral is not just a colleague, but a  _ friend _ . I’d say the same. I’d even be bold enough to give that title to the General.”

He paused.

“Maybe not to his face…”

Leia chuckled. 

“My point is, are we going to charge them with war crimes?”

“Of course not! They were following orders and I’m not aware that either of them were part of any campaigns that…” she trailed off at the look on her brother’s face. 

“I agree, Leia and I’m not implying that at all. It’s just, you’re very quick to defend them. Forgive them for being on a side that, personal or not, was responsible for billions of deaths.”

“Neither of them are my Father!” she blurted.

“Yes,” Luke sighed. 

They were quiet again. Veers had finished talking with Piett and the Admiral turned to smile up at the twins and motion them down.

“Well this is interesting,” Luke said, scrambling to his feet.

He and Leia approached the Admiral after jogging down the long stairs.

“I hope we’re not disturbing, sir,” Luke said when they were close enough.

“Not at all,” the Admiral replied, “the General had the very good suggestion, Commander, that you may like to show our pilots here how you might work with the AT-ATs in a combat situation.”

Luke raised his eyebrows and glanced over at Veers who was surveying him calmly. 

“Well...all right, but bear in mind, I’ve never done anything like this, Admiral. I may be worse than your green pilots.”

“Somehow, I sincerely doubt that,” answered Piett with a knowing smile. “You can have simulator 6. Your Highness, would you care to join me and watch from one of the Walker cockpits?”

Luke sensed his sister’s interest, as well as gratitude, at having something to distract her from her difficult thoughts. The Admiral offered her his arm, and gave Luke a perceptive look before they moved away.

Yes, Luke reflected, his Father chose his men well. Perhaps he also needed to seek some advice from the Admiral. 


	7. Sabacc with Solo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Never play sabacc with a Corellian, especially if his ship is on the line

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yes, once in a while I lean slightly toward crack. It's usually mild, but I couldn't help myself with this one and had tremendous fun writing it. Hope you enjoy!

“I absolutely blame you for this,” Piett told Veers as they walked toward Bay 14, currently the home of several lambda shuttles and one incredibly beat up and ancient Corellian freighter. 

“Admiral, would you really have me believe that you are not capable of exerting any will of your own?” the General asked calmly. “You could have refused to play.” 

Piett raised a skeptical eyebrow up at his friend. “What happened to the whole ‘stand with the honor of the Imperial military’ speech?”

“And it got you didn’t it?”

“Because it was  _ you _ asking!” 

“Well, there you are-- you let yourself be manipulated.”

“I still fail to see how this isn’t your fault.”

Veers just smiled and shrugged as they entered the bay. Solo was on top of his ship tinkering with something. 

“Is it broken again?” Piett asked calmly. “How unfortunate. I suppose we’ll have to postpone…”

“Not at all Admiral,” Solo called down. “Just making sure she’ll be as efficient as possible. Just a little custom wiring.”

Piett shuddered slightly at the thought of all the ways the freighter was patched together. If anyone ever attempted such haphazard modifications on his Lady he would space them without hesitation. 

“Let’s get this over with, Solo,” Veer said, moving to the lowered hatchway. The Corellian slammed a hatch shut and battered it into place with a hydro spanner. Piett winced.

Several nights previously, he had been pressured and pushed into an inadvisable game of sabacc with the smuggler, Veers insisting that some sort of honor was at stake. Piett was still kicking himself because he  _ knew _ better, he did, but in the interests of interpersonal politics, he also thought that this might be helpful to understand Solo better. He had all the irritating qualities that Corellians seemed to--that devil may care attitude and utter disregard for order being some of them.

On the other hand, the princess seemed to regard him highly and was clearly in love with the man (something her ex-Sith father still coped with by destroying battle droids with his lightsaber) and admittedly, General Solo had proven an... _ adept, _ if unconventional fighter. 

Thus, here they both were. Solo had insisted that if he won, both Piett and Veers had to personally find out the top speed the Falcon could achieve in order to prove Solo’s modifications were brilliant. Had he lost, Piett had promised to have his engineers overhaul the Falcon to bring her to standard and precise specs as defined by the Imperial navy. 

Their crushing defeat was not something from which Piett thought he’d ever recover. Quite literally if the Falcon exploded or fell apart during this ill advised flight. 

Veers had refused to go through with it if the Wookie was involved, and as the two of them in a confined cabin was not something Solo wanted to face either, he’d agreed. 

The princess had cornered Piett in his office the night before, clearly not best pleased with the situation.

_ “Admiral, do you have a moment?” _

_ He looked up from the reports. He had rather been expecting this visit. _

_ “Come in your highness.” _

_ She’d seated herself across the desk and speared him with a look. Piett sighed.  _

_ “I can imagine I know what this is about your highness…” _

_ “I expect this sort of thing from Han, Admiral. That the top two commanding officers in the fleet are involved was rather dismaying.” _

_ “I agree that it was not the best…” _

_ “Do you really have to follow through with this? Trust me when I say I could shut this down.” _

_ Piett leaned back in his chair. “I realize that, your highness, but I have to confess that we are now in a matter of honor and…” _

_ “Oh not you too,” she groaned. “Men. I was counting on you to be the sensible one.” _

_ He couldn’t help a smile at that. “I am sorry to disappoint your highness. However, I must confess that once we had indeed lost, I thought perhaps this might be an opportunity to continue building our alliance. I am aware of the value that General Solo places on his ship, and a display of trust from myself and General Veers could go a long way for many members of our fledgling fleet.” _

_ She stared at him for a moment. “ _ THAT, _ Admiral, sounds incredibly persuasive and well thought out. But we both know it’s bantha poodoo. Your egos are involved here too.” _

_ “I will not deny that. But I do mean what I say. Do you not think it will have a rather….motivational effect?” _

_ The princess chewed her lip and gazed at his mild expression. “Yes, damn it, I do,” she said at last. “Are you demonstrating something of a daredevil streak here, Admiral?”  _

_ He smiled at her benignly. “I served Darth Vader for 5 years, your highness, what do you think?”  _

_ “I think,” she said, rising and moving to place her hands on his desk and lean over it. “That if something happens to you all, not only will I be seriously displeased….” _

_ Piett chuckled slightly at that and she frowned. _

_ “...but so will HE. And I don’t want to explain it to him.” _

_ He rose as well--much as he may like the Rebel princess, she wasn’t going to try and intimidate him in his own office. _

_ “You won’t have to your highness.” _

_ “I better not,” she said and left. _

***

“Admiral, as you’re the navy representative you can have the co-pilot’s seat,” Solo said graciously, and Piett tried not to think of how much Wookie hair he’d get on his uniform as he sat. 

“General, if you could take navigation behind me,” Solo continued. Veers huffed but complied, strapping the crash harness. 

“Millenium Falcon to Executor. We are ready to depart,” Solo said. 

“Copy that Falcon,” came the voice of Piett’s XO. “Opening energy barrier.”

There was a brief flicker around the bay entrance.

“Do try and bring our men back in one piece, General Solo,” came Venka’s voice from Devastator.

“Hey,” Solo said into the comm “trust me.”

“Famous last words,” muttered Veers. And then Solo was pulling back on the controls and the Falcon shot out of the bay like a hunting fyrnock. 

“All right,” Solo said, clearly enjoying himself, “we’ll get well clear of the Fleet, Admiral, so you don’t worry about your precious Lady….”

“Condescending,” murmured Piett.

“...and then I’ll open her up. Keep your eyes on the speed counter.”

“Given the amount of things you’ve tinkered with on this ship, Solo, how can we trust that it is accurate?” Veers asked dryly. 

“General, I’ll try not to be insulted by that. You can ask Luke--he’s a Jedi, can’t lie.”

“Well, he  _ can _ ,” Piett put in, “he’s just rather bad at it.”

Solo grinned at him. “I can see why Leia likes you, Admiral. Perceptive indeed.”

Piett flushed. 

“Some of us refer to Admiral Piett as the ‘Vader whisperer’, Solo,” put in Veers traitorously from behind.

“Max!” Piett exclaimed, turning to give him a furious glare. 

But Solo was laughing, damn him. “Oh that is too perfect. General Veers I shall remember that, thank you.”

“All right gentlemen, hold on because…”

And then he stopped. Because four Star Destroyers had just dropped out of hyperspace in front of them. 

“Kriff.” And Solo slapped at the controls sending the Falcon into a dive worthy of a bird of prey to avoid the fighters starting to stream at them from the enemy destroyers. 

“Get me back to my ship, Solo!” Piett called, clutching the board in front of him.

“That may be a tall order, Admiral as her shields just went up! General!” the Corellian yelled. “I need you on weapons!”

“All right,” said Veers with his battle calm, and unbuckled to go get into the gunner’s nest. 

“Falcon, get back to the fleet, we’ll cover you!” came a new voice and a familiar X-Wing flashed by with a wave of its s-foils, followed by the rest of Rogue squadron, as well as Black squadron. 

“Working on it, Luke!” Solo replied, and the Falcon rotated gracefully to come around and above one of the destroyers.

“This is not the way I wanted to understand being on the other side of this situation!” said Piett, without thinking. 

Even in the midst of the battle, Solo shot him a look of realization. “That’s right. You were part of that chase in the asteroid field weren’t you?”

“Not the time, if  _ ever _ , that I want to discuss that!” Piett barked as they did another stomach destroying dive. Still, you had to give it to Solo---he was a gifted pilot and the Falcon turned at the lightest touch. 

“Aw kriff, we’ve got two of them locked on!” And suddenly Solo was unbuckling and tapping something into the controls. “Take her would you, Admiral, I need to give the General a hand!” 

“WHAT.” Piett scrambled as his side of the board lit up. “Solo!” But the Corellian was already heading to the other gun and he could hear Veers firing as well. 

_ Damn this situation. Damn Veers. Damn Solo. Damn himself for ever agreeing to such a kriffed up… _

He threw the ship hard to port and came screaming around Devastator in an effort to bring the enemy TIE fighters past her starboard laser canon. He hadn’t certified on freighters---just received some basic training back in his anti-pirate days. He was an admiral for kriff’s sake, not a fighter pilot. 

“Falcon! Han, head toward us, we can blast them!” That was Skywalker. 

“Commander, I can’t see you, where are you?” he answered.

“Admiral? Are you...flying…?”

“Just give me your location, Skywalker!” 

“3 klicks below Executor sir!” 

He threw the Falcon into a dive (not nearly as graceful as Solo’s) and pushed the ship as hard as he could. The old freighter rattled and shook around him and he wondered if his nightmare would come true and she would just fall into scrap around him. 

He could faintly hear Solo from the gunner’s nest. “Don’t break my ship, Admiral!” 

_ And the hypocrisy there…. _

He could see Skywalker’s X-Wing along with his comrades, and flipped the Falcon several times as he angled in toward them. 

A wild flurry of lasers around him and then Skywalker’s jubilant tones. 

“Nice work!” 

He came back around and behind the command tower on the Lady in time to see her let loose another broadside at the enemy Star Destroyers as Devastator and Home One moved to either side of the opposition’s formation. The blast from the Lady took out the front Star Destroyer and after that, it was chasing the retreating ships as they jumped away. 

Piett leaned back weakly in his seat, and took a steadying breath before punching the comm.

“Executor, this is the Admiral. Status report.”

“Admiral, sir it’s good to hear from you. No damage to Executor, sir, and the fleet reports are minimal. Losses in our fighters sir.”

“Have the full reports ready for my return.”

“Aye sir.”

“We’re coming into Bay 14, prepare to tractor us in.”

“Aye sir.”

Solo and Veers came into the cockpit, comparing kill tallies.

“But you were back there longer,” Solo was saying, “so obviously you have a few more.”

“ _ Or, _ ” Veer responded, “My job includes precise targeting all the time and I’m just better at it.” He resumed the navigation seat.

“Solo, if you would pilot your ship again…”

“That wasn’t half bad Admiral,” Solo said happily, clapping him on the shoulder and toggling a switch to give himself control again.

“Yes, Firmus, we need to have a conversation about your flying. I think I’ve always assumed you just stood around and told other people what to do,” Veers added. 

Piett rolled his eyes as the Lady tractored them back to her bay.

“If you think I want to repeat that experience…”

“Admiral, I’m really curious how you would do in a fighter now,” chimed in Skywalker’s voice from the comms. Piett glanced out the view screen to see the familiar X-Wing in tandem with them. The Commander gave a little tip of his s-foils. 

“Skywalker, I have  _ never _ felt the need to prove myself in a fighter. I command Star Destroyers and I’m quite happy to remain doing so.” 

The Lady’s bay had a small welcoming committee for them as they finished landing. 

An anxious princess was at the head, followed by a Wookie and yes, Piett could see Ellery as well as Calrissian.

He undid the crash harness and forced his knees to work as he stood. Veers was smiling knowingly at him.

“A little different up close and personal isn’t it?”

“I take back what I said about anyone being able to hop in a fighter. I don’t think I could handle that kind of stress,” Piett said fervently.

“Says the man who coolly directs hundreds of thousands of men in Death Squadron. Yes, your job is far less stressful,” Veers shook his head as they followed Solo out of the ship. 

“It’s  _ different, _ ” Piett insisted as they stepped onto the deck of the Lady and oh, he was so grateful to be back.

“You  _ nerfherder!! _ ” the princess was yelling at Solo, “You all could have been killed!!!” But she followed it up with a passionate embrace.

“Ok, ok, my sister there,” Skywalker commented, joining them. 

The Wookie was speaking to Solo now and gesticulating wildly, but Piett was distracted by a warm hug from the princess.

“I’m so glad you’re all in one piece,” she exclaimed, releasing him and moving toward Veers where she paused and then held out her hand.  _ No, Veers was really not the hugging type. _

Piett was trying to recover his own dignity after that, with both Skywalker and Veers grinning at him like fools. He tugged his jacket straight and decided that enough chaos had occurred for the day. 

“All right, we all have jobs to get to. Well done everyone, but we need to assess the situation. As you were.”

And his command voice had the desired effect, though Veers still had a suspicious quiver around his mouth.

“Oh, and Solo?” Piett called to the man.

“Admiral?”

“I do believe that I managed to get your ship to .5 past light speed. I understand that’s considered fast?”

Solo grinned. “You can fly with me anytime, Admiral.”

“Oh thank you,” Piett said graciously, heading for the bridge turbolift, “I think that experience was more than adequate.”


	8. Skywalkers really can't do stealth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Piett and Luke attempt an undercover mission. What could go wrong?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one started as a light hearted jaunt, and then suddenly Luke was taking the opportunity to get some insight from Piett and they have a rather serious conversation. I certainly wasn't going to deny them that so here's a slightly longer one shot! :)

“What difference does it really make?” Luke asked Madine as they surveyed the man in front of them. “You could dress him like a Tatooine farmer and he would still  _ scream _ ‘Imperial military’.

“Skywalker, this is the reason we weren’t keen for you to perform undercover missions,” Madine replied crisply. “We can at least  _ try _ for some subtlety.”

“Yes, I imagine that must have been difficult,” Piett agreed wryly, tugging at the odd feel of a tunic that wasn’t uniform. “It’s a wonder you weren’t captured much earlier, Commander, given the rich abundance of leads we had whenever you were out on missions.”

Both former Rebels glared at him. 

“Too soon to discuss that?” Piett asked innocently. 

“Ignoring that,” Skywalker continued, “can’t you let the man be? We’re assuming this planet is or was largely friendly to the Empire, surely it would be beneficial to give them the full ‘Admiral of the Fleet’ star treatment.”

Luke saw Piett shift and felt the man’s discomfort and unease. 

“Yes, Commander, but we don’t  _ know _ . Would you have me be less cautious and make the Admiral a target?” 

“And how precisely is allowing me to wear my own boots achieving that?” Piett put in, weary of the discussion.

“Because any agent worth their credits would know Imperial military boots just by the sound,” Madine retorted. “So you meet our contact. If they seem to dislike the Empire, Skywalker here is the lead speaker for our supplies. If they are still loyal to the Empire, you pull out your credentials and data chip, Admiral. And of course the ideal option is that they like the idea of the New Republic and don’t you two provide a happy example of working together.”

Luke shared a glance with the Admiral.

“And General Solo will take you in as the Falcon is the most neutral ship we have at the moment.”

“Wonderful,” commented Piett, tugging on the boots Madine had handed him, with distaste.

  
  
  


****

“That is not ever something I can reconcile in my brain,” said Veers scanning him. “Weren’t you born in uniform?”

Piett gave him a look, but didn’t dignify that with a response. 

“I don’t know,” Luke said, “Don’t you think he could pass for a Rebel?” He found himself on the receiving end of two very unimpressed Imperial gazes. 

“Too soon?” he asked Piett, who gave him a small smile.

“Touche', Commander.”

“I still don’t like this,” Veers said, looking at Luke, not the Admiral. “Why couldn’t this have been one of our ISB agents?”

“I have already explained this at length,” said Madine in a long suffering tone as he joined the group. “These people respect rank. We’re playing our two best cards in that respect as obviously we wouldn’t send the heads of state down there.”

“I still think it should be me,” said Veers and Madine snorted. Which, Luke reflected, made him brave or slightly stupid given the frosty look Veers leveled at him. 

“If Admiral Piett, to quote Commander Skywalker, ‘screams Imperial military’ then you General would announce it with fireworks. Besides, both of them have very approachable demeanors…”

“A nice way of saying we’re not very tall,” Luke interrupted and Piett closed his eyes in irritation.

“...as I said,  _ approachable, _ ” Madine continued. “Ah Solo, is everything ready?” And the man moved off to confer with Luke’s friend.

“Where are you hiding it?” Veers asked, gesturing to Luke’s jacket.

“You think I’m bringing it?” Luke asked with a smile.

“I know you are, Commander,” Veers responded, “I’m counting on it, because I am looking at you to watch the Admiral’s back.”

“Always,” said Luke seriously.

“And I am counting on you to make sure my brother doesn’t attempt any unnecessary heroics, Admiral,” said a new voice and Leia came to join the group, giving Luke an intense brown gaze. “Since you will undoubtedly be the more rational one.”

Luke wanted to feel offended, but as this was transparently true he just smiled at his sister. 

“Well, it may not be Imperial issue, but I think I can work my way around a blaster with some competence, your highness,” Piett replied, touching the weapon on his hip.

Luke’s sister smiled at him. “You, Admiral, are my favorite.”

“Yes, to the point that the rest of us may just develop a complex,” said Veers dryly, but Luke could sense that the General appreciated the value which the princess found in his friend. 

“Just come back safely and successfully with a deal for resupplying the fleet,” Leia said, “simple right?”

Luke shared a look with Piett. “Sure.”

  
  


***

Han had given them a jaunty salute and the Falcon lifted off once more, leaving Luke and the Admiral on their own. 

“What is the name of the establishment again?” Piett asked as they strode down unremarkable streets in a very working class part of the town. It had a medium sized space port and was not the main trading center, which suited them very well when they were being cautious about their approach. It was a largely agrarian world with a few major cities dotted near the equator. The idea was, once they had made a successful deal for supplies, one of the bigger Alliance ships would enter they system to load it as even a friendly Empire planet got nervous when a Star Destroyer showed up. 

“ _ The Bright Spot _ , sir,” Luke responded.    
  


Piett snorted. “Is it now? And Commander, you’ll want to drop the ‘sir’ for a while.”

Luke hadn’t considered that. “Right.”

He paused. “I’m sorry….I….think my attempting to be on a first name basis with you would definitely translate as awkward.”

“Mmm,” Piett considered this. “Yes, I---- well yes, I feel similarly. All right, for the time being, refer to me by Piett, and….”

“Call me Anakin,” Luke interjected and Piett’s eyebrows shot up. “I don’t know Skywalker, I can’t call your  _ Father _ that, so…”

“Maybe you should try,” Luke said calmly, “it’s high time someone reminded him that it’s all right to be human, not Sith. And humans have friends.”

Luke could feel the Admiral reeling at this. “Commander…”

“Sir, if anyone qualifies as his friend, it’s you. He thinks it, even if he doesn’t say it.”

“I…. I… don’t know if I should know this,” the Admiral managed and Luke could feel him struggling with years of conditioning.

“I know,” Luke sighed, “he doesn’t make it easy on himself or anyone else. All right, call me Lars, it’s still a family name so that will get my attention in a pinch.”

“That I can do,” the Admiral responded. “I believe it’s left here.”

The two men made their way to a decent looking establishment where someone had attempted to live up to the name by painting the door a garish yellow. Two struggling plants of some kind stood sentinel on either side of the entrance and Luke and Piett made their way inside, blinking to adjust their eyes after the bright noon sun outside. 

Being early in the day, there were few patrons. It was quite high class compared to Mos Eisley’s cantinas, but then, Luke refected that was setting the standard terribly low. He reached with the Force to search for their contact. There. The man looking at them casally over in the corner. He rose as Luke met his eyes and motioned them over.

Piett and Luke moved to join him, Luke reaching for any ill intentions around them. Sensing nothing urgent he nodded discreetly at the Admiral and they seated themselves. 

“So you’re Mr. Ynsur?” Piett asked polite and mild. 

“Indeed, and you are?”

“Piett, my associate Lars,” the Admiral responded. 

“Pleasure to meet you,” Luke said, emphasizing his Tatooine accent, with all its rural tones. 

“So, you are seeking quite a large order. May I inquire how you intend to pay for it?”

“Oh we have the credits,” Piett answered with all the assurance of his Imperial supply chain over the years.

“How was your harvest this year?” Luke added pleasantly, reaching for the man’s emotions. 

He seemed cautious, but more because he was wondering if they could pay, more than anything else. 

“Excellent, thank you. I am going to need to see proof that you can pay what you say if you don’t mind.”

“Of course not,” Piett replied mildly handing the man his credit chip for scanning.

While they waited, the man studied them both. 

“I feel like I’ve heard your name before,” he said at last and Luke glanced at Piett swiftly before replying.

  
“Really? Can’t say as you look that familiar.”

“Not you Lars. You,” he said gesturing at the Admiral who raised an inquiring eyebrow. 

And the Force  _ flared.  _

Luke tensed, unsure.

“Can’t say that I’ve been to this particular system before,” Piett responded calmly though Luke could feel his stress levels shoot up. “Maybe you ran into me off planet?”

“Oh no he didn’t,” a voice responded behind them. “But I have. Of course, you were just a Lieutenant then,  _ Piett. _ ”

Luke turned to face about five blasters leveled at them. 

Piett was slower to turn. 

“Ynsur wasn’t positive, so he sent me your image just on the off chance, and look at the happy coincidence just set in our way.”

Luke watched the Admiral level his cool gaze upon the speaker. “We don’t want any trouble, Malick. We’re quite genuinely interested in supplies.”

“Mmm and I do like running a legitimate business on the side. But even so, it’s still more profitable to stick with my main business. I’d keep your hand very clear of that blaster  _ Admiral _ .”

Piett raised his hands carefully. “I’m not in that line of work anymore.” And Luke suddenly realized that the man before them was a smuggler. His Father had filled him in on some of his Admiral’s past and the reason that he had come to the attention of the higher ups in the Imperial navy was for….

“Yes, you work  _ with _ smugglers now is what I hear,” the man, Malick, sneered. “This one of them?” he continued, jerking his head at Luke. And he might have taken a moment to appreciate that he wasn’t the one being hunted so to speak if the situation weren’t so serious. 

“Not exactly,” Piett replied carefully.

Luke concentrated and reached. He had done this on a few other occasions and hoped the Admiral still had the impressive control that he had exhibited before. 

_ Admiral. I will be the element of surprise.  _

Luke felt Piett’s mind jump at the intrusion. Then….

_ How so? _

_ I will reveal who I am. When I do, go for the two on the right. Then we run for that forest we saw coming in.  _

_ Is it too late to say I have a bad feeling about this? _

Luke took a moment to appreciate the man next to him. 

Malick was speaking. “So the question is  _ Admiral _ , do I take you for the bounty that’s on your head for being a traitor, or do I just kill you here for the many inconveniences you gave me in your career?”

And Luke ignited his lightsaber.

“Holy Kriff!” One of Malick’s men shouted and Luke was flipping over their heads, slicing cleanly through two of their blasters as he did so. 

Piett immediately flung himself to the right as instructed, bringing his blaster to bear on the two men and firing from the floor. He caught one in the chest and the other in the leg, before pushing himself to his feet and sprinting for the entrance.

Luke made sure he was clear before he stopped deflecting blaster fire and then used the force to throw several tables at their assailants before following the Admiral out the door. 

They were close to the edge of the city. Then there was a wheat field and a large swath of forest beyond that. As they entered the wheat field, Luke felt the presence of a large number of pursuers.

“Looks like he has a pretty major operation here!” he shouted as blaster fire nipped at their heels and screamed over their heads.

“Mostly interested in getting to the trees, Skywalker,” Piett shot back.

Luke had a sudden flare of pain in his left shoulder and yelled. Piett slowed. 

“No!” Luke yelled, “Keep going---I’ll be ok!” 

They managed to make the cover of the trees and take a quick breath and assess the situation. 

“How many?” Piett asked panting and checking his blaster.

Luke reached out. “About 30 actively pursuing, but I sense more.”

“Can that wait for treatment?” Piett asked, waving his hand at Lukes’ shoulder. 

“Yes, let’s get distance first,” the Jedi responded. And they were off through the trees. The forest got thicker as they went, which was a challenge, but it would be that way for their pursuers as well. 

Luke had hooked his lightsaber to his belt and now he pulled out his comlink as they ran. “Han! Han do you copy?”

Nothing and Piett shot him a look.    
  


“Han!”

Static. Then…”What is it kid? Are you in trouble?” 

“Yes! We’re going to need extraction. Smuggler trouble and they’re out for blood. Or credits, but we don’t really want to find out which.”

“Luke...the Falcon blew one of her engines. We’ll need to send a different ship, but we’re coming all right? Hang tight. Is there a place you can get cover?”

“Working on it!”

“Good luck.”

They paused again for breath and listened. Faintly there was crackling underbrush and swearing to be heard.

“Skywalker.”

Luke looked over at the Admiral who was wiping his face with his sleeve, and leaning against a tree. “I have an idea.”

  
  


***

Luke and Piett waited, barely breathing as their hunters passed by far beneath them. Luke concentrated and motioned carefully with his hand.

Immediately several of the men shouted to the others, pointing ahead and they charged off again through the brush. 

Piett was raising his eyebrows again, perched across from Luke on a wide set of branches far up in the canopy. Luke touched his mind once more. 

_ I suggested that they heard a noise up ahead.  _

_ This is never not going to be strange. _

_ True. On the other hand, I just witnessed an Imperial Admiral climb a tree with impressive skill.  _

Piett actually smiled widely at that and Luke reflected that the Admiral definitely had well hidden depths. 

_ We’ll need to wait until dark. _

_ Can I treat that shoulder? _

Luke nodded silently and shifted slightly so that Piett could reach him. The Admiral had a small kit slung across his shoulder and he carefully pulled it out to retrieve the bacta wraps. Happily, the wound wasn’t deep even if it was painful, but the Admiral efficiently and neatly cleaned and bandaged it. The two of them then carefully arranged themselves so that their backs were to the trunk of the large tree they’d chosen and they sat shoulder to shoulder to wait it out. Luke reached out with his senses but no searchers were anywhere close.

“I think they might have called it a night,” he whispered to Piett. 

“I still think we should stay up here,” the Admiral returned, “though my back won’t thank me for it.” 

“Agreed.”

“Well,” Piett said after a moment. “I have to say, I did not see that coming.”

Luke laughed softly. “True. What are the odds you were recognized and I wasn’t?”

“I’m given to understand from Solo, that this sort of thing happens a great deal around you.”

“Well that’s vastly unfair. I would say the same about him.”

“My experience is more with you at this point and so far, he’s not wrong,” Piett returned. Dusk was falling now and the chill up in the trees was making its presence known. 

“All right, but compared to my Father, how about then?”

“You are asking me to share some sensitive information there, Skywalker.”

“You cannot get me to believe that he hasn’t done some insane things over the years that you’ve had to bail him out of.”

Luke felt Piett remembering. 

“I knew it!” Piett gave him a suspicious look. 

“Do you read minds all the time?”

“No!” Luke realized what Piett was concerned about. “I would never just invade your mind to do that. Usually it’s just…impressions of what you’re feeling. You were remembering something just then, but I don’t know what it was. And I promise I wouldn’t probe. That’s an immoral invasion of privacy.”

There was a slightly awkward pause. 

“Your Father did not always ask nicely,” Piett admitted. “One learned to clamp down hard on emotions and thoughts when he was on the bridge. I believe that has changed,” the Admiral added.

The breeze was properly chilly now and the Admiral shivered next to him. 

“I don’t want to get hypothermia,” Luke said. “Admiral with your permission, I can use the Force to help prevent that.”

“I always knew it had more uses than choking people,” Piett answered with dark humor. “Go ahead Skywalker.” 

Luke concentrated and allowed himself to draw upon the warmth from the ground and within the trees, then pictured it soaking into himself and Piett. 

The Admiral straightened. “Well. That...was strange. But good. Thank you Commander.”

“Should we take turns watching so the other can get some rest?” Luke asked. 

“I’m not sure I could sleep Skywalker, but you should with that wound.”

“I’m not that sleepy, Admiral.” 

They were silent for a while. Luke considered what to say to the man beside him. This slight, durable Admiral who knew his Father better than anyone else alive. He recalled his conversation with Leia from some time back. It was an odd time, but they had nothing else to do but wait, and he had some questions.

“Can I ask you some questions?” he said quietly and Piett sighed next to him. 

“I can’t say that I haven’t been expecting it. You do choose your moments, Skywalker.”

Luke chuckled.

“Leia appreciates you very much you know.” He felt the man’s pleased embarrassment. 

“That is very kind. I assure you it’s mutual. She is a natural leader-- perceptive and strong. Much like…” he broke off. 

“My Father says she is much like our mother. But I see him too,” Luke provided for him. 

“Yes.” 

“She is concerned that we might be putting you in an awkward position, Admiral.”

“Mmm.” Piett gazed out over the forest for a while. “I do understand it, Commander,” he said at last. “Your...Father is not the most forthcoming in personal matters. Add to that the Princess’s strong desire to convince herself that she hates him and it’s quite complicated.”

“Interesting choice of words,” Luke rejoined.

“I believe that she wants to hate him. She may currently believe she does, I do not know. However,” Piett shifted slightly to look right at Luke. “There is a deep longing in her, much like you I suspect, for a Father. It is natural and one we can all relate to even if we don’t want to.”

It was Luke’s turn to be silent for a while. 

“I’m not sure how to help her,” he said at last.

“She is at war with herself,” answered the Admiral, “I doubt that any of us can fight that battle for her.”

“I need to be patient then,” Luke said, thinking of Yoda. 

“Patience does sometimes pay off,” Piett answered with a short laugh. “There was a time I thought I would always be stuck under a rather difficult commanding officer.”

“My Father,” Luke supplied.

“No actually,” the Admiral responded, surprising Luke. “My predecessor was…not an easy man to work for if you were not from the Core. And then, suddenly, he was gone and I….” Piett trailed off and Luke was suddenly hit with a barrage of mixed emotions. Intense. Painful. 

He put his hand on Piett’s arm. “You don’t have to…” he began.

“Sorry, no I think it may help you if I explain this,” Piett cleared his throat and soldiered on. “You see your Father executed him for incompetence---a failure as he saw it. I received a promotion but not in any way that I would have desired, despite the man’s many flaws. Yet your Father in doing so gave me one of the best things in my life--Death Squadron. And the Lady…” He paused again. 

“So you see, I have very mixed feelings at the moment too, Skywalker. I think your sister can sense this---she knows somehow that I might struggle with similar conflict. Though I must admit mine is not nearly as strong or indeed, justified as hers.”

“Hoth,” said Luke. “That was it wasn’t it?” 

Piett shuddered, but not from the cold and Luke suddenly had an image in his mind of a familiar looking generator, but it was grainy, like looking at a holo image. Breathtaking realization hit him.

“ _ You _ found us. You knew we were there.”

Piett looked at him sharply. “How…?”

“I didn’t read your mind I promise. You were just projecting really strongly...I can’t help that. An image of our shield generator…”

“Yes,” Piett whispered. “Sometimes I wonder what would have happened had I not been determined to be so very damn good at my job. Feel differently about me now, Skywalker?” He was looking at Luke with haunted eyes and a sad quirk to his mouth.

“Admiral…”Luke stopped. “We are all chased by what we did in the war. Do you hate me for the first Death Star?” 

“You know, I thought I would Skywalker, but when we got you at Bespin, I found that it wasn’t possible.”

“You did your job,” Luke said promptly. “I don’t condemn that. You’re still one of the best men I know.”

Piett looked down at his hands and was silent for a long while. “Thank you,” he said finally, but Luke could still feel his conflict. The Admiral had his own battles to fight it seemed.

“We should rest,” Piett added. “I can take the first watch.”

“All right,” Luke replied, leaning his head against the tree and closing his eyes. 

***

He opened them again to a dawn blushing into existence and Piett gazing up at the sky with a set countenance. 

“You should have woken me,” Luke said accusingly and the Admiral started slightly.

“Force! Don’t do that Skywalker, I could fall,” he replied. “It’s all right,” he continued, “Veers would tell you I’m rubbish at sleeping anyway. They nag me about it constantly.”

“They?” Luke asked.

“The Lady as well,” Piett responded with a wave of his hand, then seemed to realize what he said. 

Luke smiled and sat up stretching, feeling a fierce protective instinct from the Admiral. 

“Don’t worry sir, I could sense she’s special. If you ever decide to tell me I’d love to hear, but I promise not to push. Or say anything.” Piett nodded. 

Luke’s senses flared.

“Oh kriff.”

“What?” asked Piett, instantly on alert.

“They have small ships, heading this way and they’re charging weapons.”

“Get down!” Piett ordered urgently and the two began to descend rapidly. Laser fire began to strafe the woods and they were about 30 feet from the ground when a blast hit the tree above them. A large splinter imbedded itself in Piett’s hand at the wrong moment. 

He cried out, his grip lost and fell.

“No!” Luke cried, scrambling to stop it in the Force. He thought he might have slowed the man slightly before he impacted the earth and lay still. 

His fear gave him unearthly speed and he dropped to the ground near Piett, as the destruction continued around them. 

The Admiral was unconscious, but breathing so that was something. Luke tried to still his mind from all the chaos and channel himself into looking for any internal injuries. The head wound, and what would be spectacular bruising, no internal bleeding, thank the Force. Ah, well that was a problem--- a badly twisted knee. Still at least he could move him without worrying about permanent injury.

Luke grasped him under the arms and pulled him backwards looking for cover---there a dip in the ground near a large stump. He propped Piett next to himself and tried to cover them both with the Force. The ships passed by, no doubt coming around for another pass and Luke took the brief opportunity to pull the ugly, four inch splinter out of Piett’s hand.    
  
The hazel eyes flew open at that and Luke put a hand to his chest. “It’s okay, it’s all right, just me. Sorry.”

Piett took a moment as Luke rummaged in the Admiral’s kit for more bandage, finding regular strips but no bacta. 

Then a presence and Luke froze in shock.

_ Young one? _

_ Father? How in the Nine Hells…? _

_ You have spent too much time with smugglers and riff raff, son. _

_ Let’s not be so concerned with my language right now, Father, your Admiral is injured. Where are you? _

_ A sharp flare of concern. Let it not be said that Darth Vader felt nothing for anyone. _

_ You should be seeing and hearing me shortly. How badly, my son? _

_ Not life threatening but walking is a problem.  _

“Commander?” Piett asked next to him, and Luke recalled that he couldn’t know what was happening. Swiftly he wrapped the Admiral’s hand as he spoke.

“My Father is coming.”

“What? How?”

“Well I was asking the same question, sir.”

_ I have your position. Can you get to the clearing near a stream about a quarter mile northwest of your location? _

_ We can do it. _

_ Go now.  _

And a sleek shuttle screamed over head, firing at the smaller ships as she came.

“Can you make it a quarter mile, sir?” Luke asked.

Piett grimaced. “Well I’ll have to. Give me your hand, Commander.”

Luke stood and offered his hand while Piett got a bracing grip on the stump behind him and reached up to accept Luke’s help. They managed to get him standing but there was no putting weight on that leg as Luke saw when the Admiral’s grimy face became white.

“I can handle the weight sir, lean on me,” he said and got Piett’s arm over his shoulders, ignoring the burn of his wound.

They made their way slowly in the direction the older Skywalker had indicated. Luke thought he could just see the clearing his Father had mentioned when he sensed a threat from behind.

“Go!” Piett commanded at the same time as their pursuers made their presence known with blaster fire.

They broke out of the trees into the more exposed clearing just as the shuttle touched down before them. The ramp had barely come down when a tall figure emerged, red blade already humming and he moved to cover their retreat as a second figure ran out to help.

“Han!” Luke called in relief. “Help the Admiral,” he said, sliding Piett’s arm over to his friend and then he had his own lightsaber drawn as he whirled to run to stand by his Father and the two blades sang as they blocked both blaster and ship’s laser fire.

“That is enough,” said Anakin and he reached with a hand. A small smuggler ship went crashing into the woods.

“Father!” Luke called. He sensed Han powering up. “Let’s go.”

The two Skywalkers ran for the ship and their feet had just touched the ramp when it was rising and Han was bringing the thrusters online. 

Luke hesitated but his Father was in charge now. “Go make sure Solo doesn’t make this rescue meaningless by crashing.”

“I heard that!” came Han’s voice as Luke obeyed and went into the cockpit to fling himself into the seat by the Corellian. They easily out-distanced the smuggler ships and burst through the planet’s atmosphere. Once they were clear of that Luke punched the hyperdrive and the stars elongated around them in familiar sensation. 

“Nice kid,” said Han. “I promised I’d comm her Worship when we got clear. Why don’t you make sure your old man knows where the medical bunk is.”

Luke rose as Han hailed Home One and made his way back into the hold. He paused in the entrance to take in the sight.

Anakin had indeed found the indicated bunk and was in the process of arguing with his Admiral about the extent of his medical knowledge. Piett had raised himself on his elbows and was scowling at his former commander to no apparent effect.

“...because at this point I’d rather trust Solo with this my Lord, and why aren’t you flying this ship? I thought it was a given that if you were on board, it was a truth universally acknowledged that you piloted.”

“That is sounding remarkably condescending, Admiral. Luke,” he summoned without looking up, and of course he had sensed him hovering. 

“There’s a medkit in the other bulkhead. Be so good as to fetch it so I can prove to Admiral Piett how very wrong he is about a great many things. And if you feel so strongly about that little adage, Admiral,” he continued, “perhaps I should pilot the Executor next time I am aboard.”

“Certainly, my Lord,” Piett responded immediately, not to be outdone. “I’ll just need to clear that with the Princess Organa since it is now the flagship of the New Republic.”

Luke smiled and retrieved the medkit, opening it as he came and handing his Father the shot with pain killers first. 

“Thank you, my son.”

“Do you even know what he gave you...ah!” Piett started as Anakin injected the hypospray and then a great deal of tension left the Admiral’s face. 

“Painkillers,” said Anakin with an unbearably smug expression.

“Are you alright, Luke?” his Father asked as Luke found several instant cold packs and cracked them to get them working.

“I will be,” Luke replied, handing the packs to the older man and finding antibiotics and painkillers for himself. “I promise. Let me do this and you be Dr. Henley for a while.”

Both Piett and Anakin gave him unamused looks. Luke grinned and sat down to deal with his injury. 

Piett sighed and reached for the cold pack, scowling furiously when his commander moved it out of his reach. 

“My Lord, I believe my knee is…”

“Twisted, yes I know, Piett. I knew that immediately. Stop  _ moving _ .” And Anakin placed the cold packs on the injured joint and proceeded to strap them in place.

  
  
“I really am quite capable of doing my own field triage, my Lord,” Piett said in clipped tones.    
  


“With that hand? Hardly,” Anakin replied triumphantly, rummaging for bacta spray and something to clean the wound with.

“I’d like to hear how you got involved,” Luke commented, rewrapping his shoulder.

“Another time,” Anakin answered, “since I am focusing on….just how much of the tree did you get in this, Piett?”   
  
“My Lord,” the Admiral sighed, defeated, and lying back, “it really would be so much easier if you just let me do this.”

Anakin paused in using the Force to remove the splinters from the nasty wound in Piett’s hand. 

“Did it occur to you, Admiral,” he said quietly “that I  _ want _ to do this?”

Stunned silence.

“I thought not,” continued the former Sith, sounding confident and demanding once more. “You really need to let other people help you more often, Admiral.”

Snorts from both Luke and Piett, but the Admiral lay quiet after that and allowed Anakin to treat the wounded hand. 

Watching this from across the way, Luke reflected on the complicated man that was his Father. The man who was trying so very hard to atone for something that could not be atoned for. Who didn’t know how to accept the forgiveness of his son or the deep seated anger of his daughter. Who nonetheless tried to find the light once more. Who without hesitation, had come to save them. Who was, even now, in his own fumbling way, trying to show his most faithful officer how much his service had meant. Still meant. 

Anakin was _trying_. Luke saw victory in that and he loved his Father for it.

Luke got to his feet, patted his Father’s shoulder and went to find Han.


	9. Taking Vader's name in vain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Watch your language when the Dark Lord is around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is for For_Darkness_Shows_the_Stars. Thank you for the suggestion and your always fantastic comments. :) 
> 
> This takes place during the epilogue of He Who Sheds His Blood With Me

Venka placed his head in his hands and groaned. How Piett did this every day was beyond comprehension. Who was he kidding in thinking he wanted any more promotions? Rear Admiral? Look where that got him!! And since his deeply inconsiderate commanding officer had gone and incapacitated himself--- _ again _ \---here he was in temporary command of the fleet. 

A fleet moreover, that had just had over half of it jump away, while the remaining half was hovering over Endor, across from the jumbled mass of motley ships that called themselves the Rebel fleet. 

Veers had sounded resigned when he commed him and told him to get over to Executor. But then, Veers could sound resigned if an AT-AT was crushing him, so that wasn’t really a good measure.

_ What happened? Venka asked having seen the violent way the Lady had been thrown and fearing the worst.  _

_ I don’t have time for the full laundry list, Veers had replied, but the big one is the collapsed lung. Henley’s working on it.  _

_ And...Lord Vader? Venka had pushed.  _

_ Also incapacitated but stabilized, Veers believed. Which makes you the ranking officer Venka, so would you be so good as to get your acting-Admiral ass over here and start talking to the heads of the Rebellion?  _

_ Why can’t you do it? Venka had shot back in a rare moment of courage with Veers.  _

_ Because, I am a General, I’m working on getting the Lady back into working order again, and I don’t want to. Get a shuttle and get over here. _

  
  


So Venka had found himself on the damaged bridge of the Lady, talking to numerous officials from the Rebellion and attempting to make some sort of order in their former battlefield. Then had come all the smaller headaches of trying to get people who were shooting at each other 24 hours previously to work together and find survivors. 

Venka had retired to the Admiral’s conference room and had all reports routed there. He was now sitting at the large table, innumerable data pads in front of him, listening to a recorded request from Madine about medical transfers, and wondering if he could just get a drip line with caf inserted into his bloodstream. 

He’d taken a short nap….the day before? And was back at it. The chronometer told him it was sometime in the early morning. 

He looked up blearily as the doors hissed open and Veers came in. He was impeccable as always-- _ how did his uniform look so crisp?? _ \--but his face told a different story. And he was bearing two large mugs of caf. 

“I knew there was a reason that I had vaguely kind thoughts about you that one time,” Venka said, accepting the caf and taking a long pull.

“Mutual,” said Veers, sprawling into a chair across from Venka’s mess.

“What are you doing up at this hour?” the acting Admiral asked palming off Madine’s message. 

_ You can wait, message Madine,  _ he thought smugly and then realized just how pathetic that was. 

“Herding a workaholic Admiral back to his quarters before Henley finds out and has him thrown in the medical brig.”

Venka brightened at the prospect of Piett being able to resume his duties, but Veers was anticipating him. 

“Do  _ not _ encourage him Venka! Are you seriously sitting there hoping that a man who was thrown across the bridge of a Super Star Destroyer, to the point that half his chest was crushed, will come back two days later to do this job?”

“Well when you put it that way, no,” Venka sighed, drinking more caf. 

“I didn’t manage to get him back anyway,” Veers grumbled to the table. “Our commander intercepted us and is  _ talking _ to him at the moment.”

Venka paled and Veers rolled his eyes. 

“Not like that you nerfherder! You and I both know he’d never throttle Piett. My impression was that he wanted to clear the air with the Admiral.”

Venka suddenly had the time for his mind to deal with Vader’s stunning reveal of identity. 

“Oh yes? What would that look like? Sorry for nearly killing you with stress? Thanks for cleaning up all the bodies I left around the Executor?”

Veers stared.

  
  
“Venka, I really think…”

“No Veers! I was asked to commit treason without that little nugget of information! And think about what it cost!!”

Veers closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“All right, get it out of your system with me rather than  _ him _ .”

“All those years chasing Skywalker to get revenge for the Empire?”

“Yes.”

“The sleepless nights obsessing over the pilot who killed the Death Star?”

“Yes.”

“The amount of men and ships and throttled officers we went through?”

“All of the above.”

“So his Lordship could find his  _ kriffing _ son?”

“So I’ve been informed.”

Venka came to his feet. 

“So was I just manipulated into all of this? It wasn’t about freedom from a corrupt Empire but a family reunion?” 

Veers had put down his mug.

“Calm down man. Think about it. The spark to end the corruption was Darth Vader realizing his son, his Jedi son mind you, was alive and he didn’t want him to become a Sith.”

Venka planted his hands on his hips not wanting any rationalizations. Veers held up a hand.

“I’m not justifying many things and neither is the Admiral, by the way, but Skywalker was the needed catalyst for change here, Venka.”

“Well  _ Sithspit _ Veers isn’t that lovely! I would have very much appreciated knowing that before…..” he trailed off in horror, turning back to see that the door to the conference room was open and a tall form, dressed in black, but -- _ without the signature helmet _ \-- was standing there, the Admiral at his side. 

_ And kriff, who would have thought he’d miss the respirator? At least you had some warning.  _

“An interesting expression, Rear Admiral Venka. I have not come across it before.”

The room was more frozen than Hoth. Veers was on his feet, his mask in place but glancing between Venka and Vader. Piett had moved into his classic defensive position, hands behind his back, stance straight as a laser blade. 

Venka already couldn’t breathe and wondered for half a second if he was already being throttled. 

“Is it common?” Vader asked turning to Piett, and Venka had the rare moment of seeing his commanding officer at a complete loss.

Because of course it was. Everyone in the Imperial forces used it. So far, of course, no one had been as suicidal as to use it  _ in front _ of a Sith….

Piett marshalled himself. “I...I...believe it is used somewhat often, my Lord….General Sky…”

Veers helped him out. “It is quite a compliment my Lord, meant only for the most dire of situations….” Piett was shaking his head, eyes wide. 

“Dire situations such as a Rear Admiral giving vent to his temper, General?” Vader asked, turning his face ( _ his face! Venka was already on overload with the situation and tried not to focus on that _ ) back to Venka. 

_ It’s a nightmare. I’ll wake up, _ he thought. 

Another frozen pause and the three officers were practically thrumming with tension.

“Clearly Rear Admiral Venka, you are overcome with stress,” Vader said at last in silky tones. “Fortunately for you, I am able to resume command of the Executor…”

Piett made a small strangled sound.

“....as her Admiral insists on impeding his recovery when he ought to be resting. So, you Rear Admiral, will get a shuttle back to the Devastator. General Veers.”

Venka glanced at the General who looked as he might in front of a firing squad.

“My Lord?”

“You will make sure that the Admiral returns to his quarters and  _ stays there _ until he is fit for duty.”

“And  _ I _ will take command of the ship and this situation in general.”

Another pause. The Dark Lord looked around at them. “Go.”

As they all made it into the corridor, Vader said “Rear Admiral?”

Venka turned back, ignoring the pitying looks from the other two officers.

“Yes, my Lord?”

_ Son of a Hutt, it was so surreal to be looking at the face of Darth Vader. He really prefered the mask at this point, since those cold blue eyes were piercing right through him. _

“I trust such language will be expelled from your vocabulary, for your sake, Rear Admiral. Go.”

Venka did  _ not _ run toward his shuttle. He walked swiftly with dignity. At least that’s what he told himself. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't had much Venka and Veers interaction, so this was fun for that reason too :)


	10. Wookie Whiskey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes friends just need to let friends unload.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is for cmdrtekk who batted several fabulous ideas out of the park for me, so I am playing with this one first. Piett absolutely deserves to unwind with Veers. :)   
> Fair warning though---my muse sent me jumping straight into a giant pile of fluff at the end! :)

“ _ What _ did you say this was again?” Piett asked, staring at his glass as though it had personally insulted his mother. 

“Well, I don’t want to be too definitive about it, because admittedly, the seller was a bit  _ shady, _ but I was under the impression that the Wookies make it,” Veers responded, slouching further into his most comfortable chair and stretching his legs on the ottoman. The ice in his own glass clinked as he took another sip. 

He and Piett were enjoying a rare moment when their duty schedules aligned and they both had the evening shift free. Miraculously, no emergencies had cropped up (though admittedly, Veers had informed Venka and Skywalker that, short of a reincarnated Emperor or galaxy ending threat, they were  _ not to be commed _ , because the Admiral was going to take a  _ kriffing break _ , understood? And both had nodded, though Skywalker had looked suspiciously as though he suspected that Veers might have a heart. Which he didn’t. End of discussion.)   
  


Piett was thus currently sprawled on the General’s sofa, bereft of duty jacket and hat, and sipping cautiously once more at his drink.

“Damn that is….. _ Wookies _ make this? You do realize that their body weight and ours is radically different right?”

“I like to be adventurous,” Veers replied, waving an expansive hand.

“You’ve been in Solo’s presence too much lately, Max, he’s having a bad influence on you,” but Piett took another sip anyway and grimaced, eyes watering slightly. “Is it  _ smoking _ ?”

“Just a little bit.”

“That is not as reassuring as you’re trying to make it sound.”

Veers smiled at him. “I’m not the one in this friendship gifted with that reassuring voice. You got all the abilities there, Firmus. And you’re using them masterfully. Skywalkers everywhere are eating out of your hand.”

Piett took a large drink at that and started coughing. 

“Your fault!” he gasped when he could speak and pointed an accusing finger at the General. “And for one  _ bloody second _ , can I not discuss the pestilence that is the Skywalker family?”

Veers raised an eyebrow. His friend very rarely raised his voice or allowed his imperturbable calm to slip. However, he was long overdue and this Wookie alcohol was having a potent effect indeed. Given how slight the Admiral was, this was acting faster than he could have hoped. 

“What did they do now?” he urged, standing and grabbing the deep green bottle by the neck to pour a few more fingers into Piett’s glass. The Admiral watched it for a moment. 

“Definitely smoking,” he commented and took a drink. “It’s not anything specific at the moment,” he responded after a minute. “I just find that not only am I the Admiral of the Imperial half of this fleet and the liaison between us, I am apparently also the full time counselor for a family with so many issues that the Hutt soap operas are boring in comparison!” 

Veers took a small sip and settled in. When Piett waxed eloquent, particularly with several drinks in him, the show was worth it. 

“I thought you were getting on rather well with most of them, hell, all of them really, though his Lordship is admittedly much harder to read.”

Piett set his glass on the end table at his head and shifted onto his side to look more directly at Veers. 

“This, Veers, is exactly the problem. I do like them all individually. And if you had told me five years ago, that I would find the company of Lord Vader not only pleasant, but humorous, I would have said you had lost the plot.” He sighed and rubbed a hand over his eyes.

“Put them together however….I thought I had it rough, growing up without a father, but Nine Hells, this family takes wounded angst to a new level.”

“Skywalker seems fairly free of angst. Perhaps that’s the Jedi side of things,” Veers reflected, having another drink and being reminded of wood fires and pine. 

“Yes, but that very trait clearly sends his sister into a temper  _ remarkably  _ akin to her Father’s!” Piett reached for his glass again, clearly remembering something. “And that topic is taboo---never compare the princess to her Father. She’s clearly terrified that she will  _ be _ him.” 

“All right I have to ask,” said Veers, shamelessly taking advantage of the fact that Piett had two glasses of this Wookie inhibition eraser in him, “is it true that her Highness was blotto the other night and fell asleep on you in their lounge and you had to comm Solo to get her?”

Piett pointed a finger at him again, in imitation of Darth Vader, and Veers knew he was going to get an answer.

“I find your lack of discretion disturbing, General Veers.”

“I think that slightly intoxicated Piett is my favorite,” he replied giving his friend a salute.

“I’m not even close,” the Admiral answered indignantly. 

“All right, you’re not. Now you were about to tell me whether it’s true.”

Piett sighed in a long suffering manner and lay back down on the sofa, putting an arm behind his head. 

“How did you hear about it?”

“It  _ is _ true!!”

“Veers….for her sake….”

Veers grinned at his friend. “You Admiral, are utterly and completely wrapped around that rather small index finger of hers. Firmus Piett, legendary Admiral of Death Squadron, and his alter ego, teddy bear for Princess Leia Organa.”

Piett turned his head to give him a very bland look. “You’re so very clever, Max.”

“All right, all right, I’m sorry. What happened?” Veers was determined to get the truth on the story that he had heard from a very secure scuttlebutt, and he’d had to pull rank to even get that much.

“We were going over the fleet reports like we do every Thursday...”

“Of course,” Veers murmured into his glass.

“I’m sensing a very mocking attitude here, General, do you want this or not?” Piett had the last of his Wookie alcohol and regarded the empty glass solemnly. 

“Do go on Firmus.” Piett raised an eyebrow at him and then clearly decided that he wanted to tell the story after all.

“Something had clearly been troubling her from the moment she came in. The princess suggested that we have some of the Corellian brandy Solo brought on board and stashed in the bar in that lounge. So we retrieved that and---it is really excellent by the way.”

“I’m aware,’ returned Veers, having shared a glass with Solo before.

“Apparently, her Highness had had another rather…..loud discussion with his Lordship shortly before we met, and proceeded to tell me about it. So between her not being fond of relating that and me not particularly wanting to hear it, the bottle was rather depleted. And because she was upset with Solo for something else, she decided to finish it out of spite.”   
  


Piett’s eyes were filled with awe at the memory. “She still managed to look over one more report and even make a fairly cogent suggestion before….” He paused again and suddenly grew quite serious. 

“Look Veers, I may want to tear my hair out and occasionally desire to space various members of this family, but….kriff it, I don’t want to see any of them hurt, and if this….”

Veers held up a hand. “Firmus, I’ve been aware for some time that you’ve basically adopted them all, gods help us, and the strain of that would break a lesser man. I’m here to help you share the load and I promise it goes no further than us.”

Piett blinked at him. “That….is ridiculous...but also a somewhat accurate description. I’m so  _ kriffed _ aren’t I?”

“Would you want to be somewhere else?” 

“No.”

“Then I think you’re kriffed in a good way.”

Piett laughed and the last bit of tension in his body seemed to uncurl and float away like the smoke from their drinks. 

“All right, I’ll bear that in mind. Mmm. I’m so tired. Max, I think I may be a little intoxicated.”

“Possibly,” Veers returned, hiding his smile, “finish your story then.”

“Very well. It’s really not that exciting. I was finishing up my reports as well and the next thing I know, there’s a weight on my arm and I find she’s just tipped right over. There was no waking her, poor girl, I think she runs largely on caf and fury.”

“Why didn’t you just place her on the sofa?” 

Piett was definitely turning red now. “Well I tried, but when I moved to do it, she ah….hem, she got rather clingy.” 

“You  _ were _ the teddy bear!” Veers found himself rather helpless.

“Yes, yes, it’s all very funny for  _ you _ . But I was terrified my former commander was going to swoop in with his disturbingly perfect timing and find his  _ daughter… _ .”

Veers was wiping tears from his eyes.

“So I commed Solo and he happily made it over to the Lady in record time, and you know the rest.”

“Does she remember…?” 

“Not really, and I just told her she fell asleep over the reports. Which is the official…” Piett yawned. “...the official story. If there’s a story. Which there’s not.”

“Which there’s not,” Veers agreed. He was feeling mellow and sleepy and had that satisfied feeling of an evening well spent with good company and good alcohol. He rose and took their empty glasses to the small galley and when he came back, the Admiral was asleep.

Veers covered him with a blanket---this wasn’t the first time and wouldn’t be the last--- and then snagged his data pad before retiring to his sleeping area.

He set an alarm for them both, and then set to work looking through the security footage for the Alliance lounge. The best images he could find were from the back and he rested the pad on his lap with a frustrated sigh.    
  


Suddenly his pad chimed at him. 

_ What? _

He picked it up and looked at the image, then up at the ceiling.

Had the Lady just….? It was really the only explanation for the image he was currently holding. 

**_Confidential_ ** _ , blinked at the top. All right Lady, I won’t break your trust. _

The princess was indeed snuggled right into Piett, head on his chest and out cold. The Admiral was reading a datapad, legs crossed comfortably at the ankle and resting on the table in front of them. His arm was firm around her shoulders. 

Veers grinned and shook his head.  _ This family should be thankful every day for your existence, Firmus.  _

He turned out the light.


	11. Working through the second stage of grief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leia and Anakin....talk. There's only so much Piett can do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, after some fluffiness, it's time for us to sit in a seething cauldron of angst for a while. Because Leia and Anakin are too alike in many ways for this to ever be easy.

He had faced down unspeakable horrors. His brother had mutilated him and left him for dead. His Master had lied to him, abused him and manipulated him. He had nearly killed his own son and tortured his daughter--acts he would struggle to live with for the rest of his life.

But it had been long since he felt the kind of knot in his stomach that he was feeling right now. He was meeting with his daughter. Alone. The daughter who hated him so much that even now he wasn’t sure if, given the right opportunity, she might just shoot him. 

He would let her, if he didn’t know the kind of damage that would do to her in the long run. 

They were meeting in the Admiral’s private conference room. It was neutral territory and Piett had been more than happy to allow it. His Admiral had been a quiet support, allowing him to stand on the bridge in his old spot for hours, speaking with the Lady and watching the stars. 

Currently, Anakin was waiting for her, much earlier than their scheduled time, but he found that he needed to marshall his thoughts and emotions. They always ended up in furious argument.  _ Perhaps, this time, they could actually manage to talk.  _

He felt Piett’s presence approaching but he stayed watching the fleet outside of the large viewports. The smaller man came to stand at his side in a manner that was old habit for them now, but he handed his commanding officer a glass this time.

Well. This was new. Anakin was trying to remember if they had actually shared a drink together yet. He didn’t think so and really, he thought, accepting the offering, he owed Piett a lifetime tab for the sheer amount of poodu he had put the man through. Of course, it was also incredible to experience eating and drinking again at all, after the miraculous work they had achieved on Kamino in repairing what they could of his body. 

“The princess’s shuttle will arrive in roughly 20 minutes, my Lord,” Piett told him, also fixing his eyes on the fleet. 

“Thank you,” Anakin responded, taking a sip and feeling the warm, comforting glow light up his chest. “That’s rather nice. What is it?”

Piett gave a little smile. “It’s from my home world, my Lord. One of our better exports in cognac. It has the advantage of not being too strong, but still rather bracing.”

_ Bracing. Yes, that was a good word for what Anakin needed. _

He reached and felt Luke’s presence on Home One. His son was meditating and he didn’t want to disturb him, but of course, Luke was incredibly quick when he felt his Father’s touch.

_ Father?  _

_ I did not mean to interrupt, my son. Just determining where you were. _

_ A wave of understanding from Luke.  _

_ I’ll be here afterwards, Father. _

_ Thank you, my son. _

_ I really do think you’re making progress, for what it’s worth. You keep trying. It means something to her, even if she does not know that herself. _

_ Thank you Luke. _

_ Don’t lose yourself in regret, Father. _

Anakin withdrew with no answer for that. 

“Where is Commander Skywalker today?” asked Piett with a knowing look. 

“Admiral, if I did not already know that you are not Force sensitive, I would be inclined to wonder,” he said, raising an eyebrow at him. 

Piett chuckled. “My Lord, I have now worked with you for nearly 6 years. I don’t need the Force to know you reasonably well. Even with your mask I was aware of the difference between your ah…. _ moods.” _

“Watch yourself, Admiral.”

“Yes sir.” 

“You do not know everything after all.”

“Of course not, my Lord,” Piett agreed readily, taking a sip from his glass. But he was not at all intimidated and Anakin appreciated it more than he could express. 

“What of the princess’s  _ moods _ then, Admiral? I’m told you deal with those remarkably well.”

Piett was quiet, and Anakin could feel him working out how to respond to that.

“I see Commander Skywalker likes to tell somewhat exaggerated tales, my Lord,” he began. “Solo remains able to best understand her and….”

“Yes, apparently he has some uses, though I still can’t understand what my daughter seems to see there,” said Anakin, waving a hand.

Piett regarded him steadily for a moment, clearly weighing whether to say what was on his mind or not.

“Say what you’re thinking, Admiral. I find I often need to hear it.” He felt Piett’s pleased surprise at the compliment.

“Very well, my Lord. I have wondered that you do not understand the princess’s choice in General Solo. Everything I know of  _ you _ , my Lord, as you were…. _ before _ , tells me that you were much like him in many ways. One could say you still are in some respects.” 

Piett was very aware of the import of his words, Anakin could feel his Admiral bracing himself, even as he reacted, no doubt predictably, to the comparison. 

“ _ I _ am like Solo.”

“In some respects, my Lord.”

Anakin lowered his voice to chillier tones. 

“There was a time, Admiral, that such an implication….”

“I’m very aware, sir, but we both know you wouldn’t do that now.”

Piett had his spine straight in the stance that was quite familiar when he knew he was on the defensive.

“Very well, Piett, explain  _ how _ I am like Solo.”

Piett set down his glass on the nearby table and clasped his hands behind his back. 

“My Lord, you are both fairly quick tempered, you love your ships passionately, and both of you are gifted pilots…”

“I am clearly the superior pilot, Admiral,” Anakin put in. 

“....though clearly you are the superior pilot, my Lord of course. You both seem to share a particular ‘devil may care’ sort of view when it comes to danger. One might go so far to say that you even seek it out…”

“That may have been true in my younger days, Admiral,” said Anakin raising a finger, “are you  _ smiling _ Piett?” for the Admiral’s lip had twitched at the finger.

“No my Lord. But that is rather my point, in your  _ younger _ days you may have sought it. And you both have a rather…..irreverent sense of humor.”

Anakin pondered this then raised his chin somewhat defiantly. 

“There may be  _ some _ truth, a very small amount mind you, to what you say, Piett. I am afraid however, that I am not sure how it will help me in speaking with my daughter….”

And just like that the mood of the room was very sombre once again. 

“My Lord…..” and Anakin could feel Piett’s sympathy and frustration at not being able to fix this for him.

“I wish I could help you. But we both know this has to be worked out by you two. No one else. The rest of us will be here in the aftermath, however, every time.”

The Admiral took their glasses and turned to leave the room.

“Admiral.” Piett looked back at him.

“You would have been an excellent father.” Piett flushed as expected. “You are an even better friend.”

“Thank you, my Lord.”

  
  


****

Leia took a deep breath as Han squeezed her hand. 

“I’ll be in Luke’s quarters, your Worship.”

She smiled at him and entered the room. 

Her Fa----Vader was sitting which was surprising as he usually prefered to stand. He rose as she entered.

“Thank you for coming, Leia.” He was attired as he always was, in black, much like Luke’s. It had a faintly military air which suited him and as in some ways he still held command of Death Squadron (though much of that was clearly Piett’s) it made sense. He had added a simple brown tunic over it, which softened the effect. 

She studied him as they had not seen each other for several months. Not since their last awful meeting….

His face still bore the awful scars but it was no longer the nightmare that it had been initially.  _ Or she was just getting used to it. _

“Did you want to sit…?” Anakin asked, tentatively. 

And her irritation flared immediately. He was not like this with anyone else. He was comfortable with her brother, mostly civil to Han and treated Piett like a friend. ( _ because he is.Your father is capable of having friends,  _ her brain insisted) 

But with her…..he was unsure, nervous and eaten with guilt. And she  _ wanted _ him to feel those things, so why did it irritate her so that he did?

“Not really no,” she replied coolly. 

He seated himself. “All right then.” 

She waited, both of them studying each other.

“You wanted to meet,” she said at last, waving a hand. “What did you want to say?”

“I just wanted to give an attempt at a conversation, not a shouting match.”

She bristled. “Oh yes? I should just enjoy these little  _ Father-daughter _ moments then? Let’s reminisce about  _ Bespin _ shall we? Or…”

“Leia...”

“Perhaps that lovely time on the Death Star? You recall that don’t you? It’s still really quite breath taking to ponder that my own father managed to suppress any amount of humanity to do that to his daughter.”

She was trying to hurt him in all the ways she knew were the worst. And she was succeeding---she could feel it. 

“I am not interested in a ‘conversation’ with you,  _ Anakin _ ! And you have utterly no right to expect that I would be!” The furniture in the room was starting to tremble slightly in sync with her anger. 

“I wished to speak with you about your….mother,” Anakin said, clearly exerting extreme self control on his own temper. 

“Oh yes?” said Leia glacially. “I think I found out enough from you, after I learned that  _ you murdered her _ .”   
  


“I didn’t murder her,” he replied through clenched teeth.

“Oh I’m sorry. What other synonyms should I use for taking the life of your pregnant wife?”

Anakin surged to his feet at that. “I DID NOT….!”

“YOU MAY AS WELL HAVE!!”

And the Lady’s lights blinked in alarm as furniture went flying back against the walls, away from the epicenter of Skywalker wrath. Leia found she was merely a foot away from her tall Father as they confronted each other, both trembling with rage. 

“YOUR KRIFFING AWFUL CHOICES LED US HERE!! YOURS!” she screamed at him, “YOU WANT TO TELL ME ABOUT A MOTHER WHO NEVER HELD ME, NEVER GOT TO BRUSH MY HAIR OR PLAY WITH ME? THE MOTHER YOU TOOK FROM US? HOW DARE YOU????!” 

For a moment she thought that Anakin was raising his hand to summon the Force, then she realized that he was raising it to his own throat, and that he sounded strange…..

Crippling horror swept over her. Her worst nightmare was coming true…

Leia stumbled back, reaching for the shreds of her self control and Anakin breathed freely once again, going to his knees on the grey carpet. 

She felt numb and empty. The Dark Side. She had used….Without even thinking or trying….What sort of monster was she?

“You….are  _ not _ a monster,” Anakin croaked behind her. “You are…. Powerful. Nine Hells.”

She whirled back to him, her fear and grief over her actions filling her.

“This! This is why I don’t...I can’t talk with you! I will become….” she stopped. And stared. 

Anakin was echoing her grief. She had never seen him cry before. But he was raw and exposed before her now, and his own grief was a black tide engulfing them both.

_ Regret, my fault, I put you through this, I made you think you are damaged, My daughter---you look so like her, I’m sorry, I'm SORRY, I can’t…. _

_ You have a choice, she remembered Luke’s voice. I’m not saying you have to forgive him. Or forget. I’m just saying that your anger doesn’t control you Leia. Because if you let it, and it would be  _ you _ letting it, the consequences will only hurt you in the long run.  _

And here they were. She was staring at the very real consequences of her anger before her. A broken room and a broken man. 

She had a choice. 

Leia moved toward Anakin, to stand in front of him. Even on his knees he was almost eye to eye with her. 

Tentatively, she reached her hand to touch his heaving shoulder. It was warm. Real, not his prosthetics. 

“I know that I cannot forgive you right now,” she said softly, trying to swallow her own tears and she felt his acceptance of that. “But...but I am also aware that I am hurting myself with this. Luke….Luke is right, damn him.”

Amusement flowed at her and her father looked up at that, his blue eyes as piercing as her brother's. 

“I have a choice. It’s still going to be kriffing hard and awful to deal with this. But I don’t want to be that…. Monster…”

“You’re not,” he croaked immediately. 

She held his gaze. “You don’t know that.”

“I  _ do _ ,” he insisted. “I’m the only one who can  _ possibly _ know. I  _ chose _ to be that monster, Leia. You just chose not to be. You are so  _ strong _ .”

She swallowed and felt the tears on her own cheeks. Carefully, Anakin brought his hand up to rest it upon hers, still on his shoulder. 

“Leia,” he whispered. 

“ _ Father _ .” 

And Anakin trembled under her hand. 


	12. Never tell them the odds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because Piett and Veers are the dream team. A salute to cmdrtekk for requesting a team up--I never have to be nudged to hard for something like that! :)

Piett lay very still, trying to ignore how very cold he was, and gazed through the scope of his blaster rifle at the approaching enemy. 

_ Kriff, they were unbelievably outnumbered.  _

“Veers,” he whispered very softly, hoping the small earpiece com could pick it up. He’d been told it was top of the line Imperial tech, but in this freezing environment, he wasn’t quite sure how well it would work. 

“What?” the General replied in his ear. All right, they worked then. 

“I’ve got movement below my position. About fifteen, all heavily armed.”

“ _ Sithspit _ .”

“Yes.”

“All right, I can see you now. Here’s what we do. If you can pick off at least half of them, it will give me time to change position and pick off the others. Then you go for high ground about 45 feet from my current location.”

Piett breathed out his frustration quietly into the snow pack below his face. 

“Veers, there’s not ground much higher than what I’m currently positioned on.”

“Oh there is, Admiral. Figure it out. I was told you were pretty good at it.”

Piett groaned internally. 

“Last time I climbed a tree I wasn’t wearing 15 pounds of snow gear and carrying a blaster rifle,” he hissed at his friend.

“Shush. They’re closer. I’m ready when you make your move.”

“All right.”

Piett sighted down his scope again, targeting the lead man. Like himself and Veers, these men were dressed in white to blend in with the surroundings. They had been searching for himself and the General for some time. Piett just hoped he could move fast enough once he’d picked off enough targets. His legs felt numb and even his heavy snow boots weren’t keeping the cold out completely. 

_ Join the Imperial Navy they said. Glorious battles in space they said. Feet firmly on the deck of a Star Destroyer. Not down on the dirt (or snow) freezing to death while waiting for the enemy to find you and kill you.  _

_ Pack of lies.  _

He curled his finger around the trigger and began to count down in his head. Breath out, slow pull, and go.

He took down the point man with his first shot, and moved his rifle smoothly to the row behind him, firing seamlessly and moving from left to right, then right to left, keeping his movements tight and efficient. 

As they marshalled themselves, he gathered himself, swung his rifle to his back and rose, sprinting through the trees for the position Veers had indicated. Blaster fire was following him and nipping at his heels, but then he heard another rifle, this one more long range and knew that Veers had his back. 

He picked his tree and reached for the lowest branch with his gloved hands. Not a moment too soon---his bad knee was threatening to let him down, traitorous bastard---and he swung himself up. He didn’t stop, reaching for the next branch and scrambling as high as he cold until he spotted a good spot where two sturdy branches met the trunk. A perfect spot for a sniper nest. 

Veers’ firing had ceased and Piett paused, listening. It seemed they had managed to avoid the first wave then. But there would be more, of that he was sure. And the trouble for him now was he was no longer against the snow, but in his white thermal coat against a nearly black and bare tree trunk. The odds of him being spotted by anyone scoping the area were higher now. 

Only one thing for it and he was cursing everything that had brought them to this point. He unzipped the parka and shrugged it off, draping it over the branch he was sitting on. There. Now it could just be snow on the branch. Sort of. 

He shivered in his dark grey thermal shirt. It wouldn’t keep him warm for long. He was extending himself, to lie along the branch, when Veers’ voice sounded in his ear once more.

“Are you  _ insane _ ? Put your parka back on, Firmus you’ll freeze to death!”

“I’d rather not make a nice target up here, Veers. I’ll put it back on when I’m out of this tree. I take it you made it to your position then.”

“Yes, and I can see the second wave coming. You should start seeing them in about thirty seconds at your 11 o'clock. Seriously, Piett, you getting hypothermia is not going to help this situation.”

“Then let’s not be here long enough for that to happen, General.”

He was reasonably sure Veers muttered something about his ‘stubborn bastard reflex’ but he ignored that with the ease of long practice. He would do what he had to. 

He brought his rifle to bear once again and yes, there they were, but….

“Veers,” he whispered, “do you see this?”

“Copy that. Do you still have your detonator?”

“I have one. I’m not sure how much use that will be. You’re closer for this.”

He looked again at the approaching troops. They had got their hands on an Imperial AT-ST.

“All right. Veers, weaknesses? You know this better than I do.”

“Their legs aren’t as sturdy. If I toss the detonator do you think you can hit it so it will explode near the knee?”

“Well.” Piett blew out an unbelieving breath and shivered. “You don’t ask for much do you?”

“Sadly it’s not a magnetic detonator so, can you do it or not?”

Piett sighted the walker with his rifle. 

“It’s going to need to be really close to your position, Max. What happens after?”

“I’ll already be shooting when it’s blowing up. And you just keep shooting, Admiral. Come on, I saw your scores from your most recent range time. This should be easy.”

Piett snorted quietly. “I wasn’t freezing to death on the range.” 

“I trust you. We’ve maybe got three minutes.”

“Veers.” He paused, heart thundering in his ears.

“I’m glad I’m doing this with you.”

“Likewise.”

Then they were silent as the troops approached. Piett really could feel himself freezing. He shivered again, to get it out of his system and looked through his scope, keeping himself as still as possible on his branch. The purloined AT-ST was closing in on Veers’ position. He estimated roughly 25 troops. This was  _ not _ going to be easy. 

Then he saw Veers’ hand move and followed that movement with his scope. There--the small deadly ball arced through the air toward the left leg, wait…..and he pulled the trigger. A bright explosion and the walker stopped. But Piett and Veers didn’t. 

From his vantage high above the enemy troops, Piett was able to bring down about ten of them before they got any bearing on where he might be. 

Veers was running and dodging from tree to tree, firing and then disappearing to fire from a new vantage point. 

“Veers!” he called as the General ran for new cover. But a trooper had him in his sights. Piett sat up from his branch and fired. The man went down and the General threw him a small salute before skidding to a halt and bending over to breathe. Then he straightened.

“Time!” he yelled out and all the ‘dead’ troopers stirred groaning, and rising to their feet. They started removing their special vests that registered them as ‘killed’ while Veers flipped his comlink. “All right Venka, you can bring in the transports and start loading up to head back to the Lady.”

“All right gentlemen,” he called hands on his hips, “I believe I’ve made my point. You have a  _ lot _ more work to do if you can’t take two of us who are twice your age!”

“And Admiral would you get out of that tree before you freeze to death and I’m shot by the princess?”

“I’m already coming,” grumbled Piett, swinging down from branch to branch. “My knee is being its delightful self as I told you it would be in this climate.” 

He dropped to the snow covered ground and zipped the parka back up with increasingly numb fingers, before walking over to join his friend.

Several large transports were landing about 30 feet away. 

“I thought that the light blasts were a nice realistic touch,” Piett commented, watching as a large, sleek lambda approached them and lowered gently to the ground. 

“Yes, one of my majors had that idea. Not bad at all---makes them duck like they would in a real explosion.” 

The ramp lowered and several familiar figures disembarked to come and join the two of them. 

Solo looked deeply impressed. 

“I have to wonder why they didn’t just send the two of you after Luke in the first place. He would have been caught a long time ago.”

“Han!” the princess was looking appalled, but her brother was clearly amused. 

“Happily the Empire needed them elsewhere,” he said grinning, and holding out his hand to Veers who shook it. “That was incredibly entertaining to watch sir,” he said. “I hope your green troops recover from that total annihilation. And Admiral,” he said turning to Piett who was still trying to suppress his shivers, “I’m sorry about the tree climbing bit. I’m afraid that I might have told the General about it. Purely complimentary I assure you.”

“I want to know,” put in Venka sourly, “just why I haven’t ever heard about your abilities as a marksman, Admiral.” 

“Don’t be a sore loser, Venka,” said Solo cheerfully, “you’re the one who bet against them. No one forced you, though it is a bit of a sad statement on the loyalty in the Imperial forces. Remember, three bottles of that wine—- that was the deal.”

Venka was still eyeing Piett resentfully. 

“It doesn’t typically come up in discussion,” said Piett mildly. “You bet  _ against _ us, Rear admiral? Should we be offended, Max?”

“Forty men sir! And two of you!”

Veers gave him an unimpressed stare as the princess sighed impatiently and pulled out several thermoses from the bag over her shoulder. 

“All right, can we debrief about this on the warm shuttle? Here, General.” And she handed one to him before moving to Piett. “And Admiral if you get a cold because of this little escapade, I’m not going to be that sympathetic,” she said tartly, handing him one as well. 

“Utterly not true,” commented Skywalker and the princess pierced him with a sisterly glare as she passed a thermos to Solo. 

“This isn’t caf,” remarked Veers indignantly, having had a sip.

“It’s hot chocolate,” the princess responded. 

“My favorite,” said Piett appreciatively as the warmth flooded his chest. 

“I know,” remarked the princess, patting his arm as she went to give one to Venka.

“Because of course it is,” said Veers.    
  


“I don’t see why you’re complaining, Max,” commented Piett, “she made it with whiskey.”

“Why are you snickering Skywalker?” snapped Veers turning on the Jedi as the others began to make their way to the lambda.

“I’m sorry, General,” and he patently wasn’t. “But I’m just enjoying the sight of the General of the ‘Thundering Herd’ and the Admiral of Death Squadron having hot cocoa together. If you’d told me this could happen four years ago….”

“You have a terrific amount of cheek for being a Jedi,” grumbled Veers, but Piett could tell he wasn’t actually bothered and they turned to follow him back to the shuttle. 


	13. You see what now?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Complete and utter crack. :) But it was fun and I really appreciated the challenge of writing Obi-Wan, having not done him before. 
> 
> Happy Star Wars day again! :) 
> 
> This is for Lifeschoices who gave me the prompt. :)

“Don’t you dare start in with that nonsense again!”

This had been happening more frequently. As Anakin clawed his way back toward the light,  _ he _ had been showing up. As if this wasn’t difficult enough, navigating the tumultuous waters of his relationship with his daughter, as well as attempting to atone in some small way for the damage he had done to the galaxy, now he was cursed with visits from dead mentors.

“It’s not nonsense. Personal feelings…”

“That. That right there. Sentient beings have personal feelings for kriff’s sake! It’s a fact of the galaxy. Suppressing something rather than dealing with it---how did the Jedi think that would end well?”

Obi-Wan’s blue presence flickered in irritation. And the Force had some sick sense of humor, sending him to Anakin in the form of his younger years, the time when they were as close as brothers. The Force apparently had a thing for wounding you and pouring acid on it. 

“Anakin… the Jedi were not perfect, certainly. You know I agreed.”

“Well you still liked to spout those little maxims often enough! And now, here you are, making my two most trusted officers wonder if I’m insane. I’m not by the way,” he added to Piett and Veers who were wearing identical looks of frozen concern as they sat across from him. 

Obi-Wan had chosen to bestow his presence on his former padawan during a meeting with the Admiral and the General aboard the Executor. 

“Somehow, I don’t think that convinced them,” remarked Obi-Wan, clearly amused. 

“My Lord….” Piett was the first to be brave enough to speak. “Perhaps….I could get Commander Skywalker…?”

Anakin swung around to him, lifting his finger to point at his Admiral. “Luke does not need to be involved, Piett and don’t give me that look!” 

Obi-Wan moved right through Veers to stand behind the two officers. “I am vastly encouraged, I must say, to see you working with others again, Anakin. Why do you trust them so?”

“I do not need you to pull out that condescending tone,  _ Master _ . And I am certainly not going to give their performance reviews to a ghost!” 

“My Lord, am I given to understand…?” Veers began, his very best Iron General face on. 

“General, you have been around me long enough to know that the Force does some rather strange things…..”

“Oh this should be good,” said Obi-Wan crossing his arms in a familiar gesture. “Do try and explain this.”

“You shut up. Why don’t you go and bother Luke?”

“Are you seeing a ghost?” Piett asked, sitting as straight as possible and clearly resisting the urge to look all around. 

“Yes, Anakin, are you seeing a ghost?” 

“I’m  _ seeing _ a kriffing nuisance, that’s what I’m seeing.” 

Veers raised his eyebrows and Anakin felt Piett’s confusion. “Not  _ you _ , Admiral, this….” and Anakin gestured at Obi-Wan who was coming to stand near the shorter Imperial officer. 

Piett’s eyes darted sideways, but he remained remarkably composed otherwise. 

“You haven’t answered my question, Anakin. What makes these two so special?”

“Well neither of them have ever told me to  _ find my calm _ for one thing!”

Veers shared a look with Piett. Obi-Wan laughed.

“Well not to your face….”

“I do not understand why you have chosen to come and plague me. Shouldn’t you be happily part of the Force---peaceful and serene and such nonsense, and--- would you stop that!”

His former master had seated himself next to the Admiral who had abandoned his attempt at not noticing where Anakin was looking, and was staring at the empty space beside himself. 

“I’m just making it easier for you. Now you can look at the same place to talk to all of us.”

“My Lord,” said Veers, “if you need us to return later…”

‘General we are having this meeting, and I will ignore the curse the Force has put upon me.”

“Lady,” said Piett suddenly, “can you detect another presence in this room?”

Well. Anakin was impressed. That was some quick thinking on the part of his Admiral. 

The room flickered with her energy. 

“That was an odd feeling,” commented Obi-Wan. “This is quite the special ship, isn’t she? Well done, Admiral.”

“You  _ felt _ that? And don’t talk to him!” 

Piett looked up from the data pad he was studying at that. “Who exactly is talking to me, my Lord?”

Anakin marvelled anew at his officer. Piett wasn’t afraid---he was  _ curious _ . And no. Not in all the Nine Hells was he introducing his Admiral to his dead mentor. 

“Not your concern, Admiral.”

“Firmus,” hissed Veers, “did the Lady get anything?”

“You know I can hear you perfectly well, General.” And Veers stiffened again, but he was eyeing Piett’s little negative shake of the head. 

Anakin reached to the Lady.

<Can you see him?>

<Code--confusion. I cannot ‘see’. Something is different, Dark one. I do not understand.>

<It’s all right, Lady. Not your fault.>

Obi-Wan was looking at him curiously.

“You  _ talk _ to her? Well! I must say I’m impressed. I would have liked this ship.”

“This is  _ my _ ship, these are  _ my _ officers, and I want you to go away! Forever, preferably.”

“So, ahem, my Lord, just to be clear, Force users can see…..the  _ dead _ ?” Veers was trying very hard to keep his imperturbable reputation intact. 

Obi-Wan leaned back against the sofa and cocked his head at Anakin. 

Anakin ground his teeth. 

“Not all of us can, General and this is not the topic we’re here to discuss!!” 

“Are they able to affect the ship, my Lord?” Naturally Piett’s concern lay there. 

“It’s just one, Admiral and he is  _ leaving _ . The ship will be fine.”

“Anakin, you can be as grumpy as you like about it, but the pull of the light is clear in you. Why do you think you’ve been able to see me so often recently?”

“I just assumed it was because even in death, you love to be a nuisance and you were bored.”

Piett and Veers were now both openly looking at the space on the sofa to which Anakin was speaking. Piett had that particular look on his face when he was putting something together and Anakin braced himself…..

“My Lord, are… are you seeing……”

“Admiral, do you really want to say this?” Anakin threatened in chilly tones, and Obi-Wan rolled his eyes.

“Oh, as though you were going to choke him? I can tell he’s your friend, you know. Also Leia would destroy you.”

“....General Kenobi?” Piett finished, gulping. 

“Have you been talking to my  _ daughter _ ??” Anakin demanded of Obi-Wan. Force help him, if that was true he would have to exile himself permanently. 

“Not yet, but I would love to. She’s growing more powerful all the time.”

“You will not….” began Anakin.

The doors swished open and Luke entered. “Father….I’m sorry, you’re having a meeting. I…..Ben?” 

“You can see him too?” Veers asked, a resigned look settling upon his face. 

“Hello Luke,” said Obi-Wan, smiling fondly. 

“You look…..you’re so young!!” 

“Commander, are you seeing General Kenobi?” Piett asked, determined to know, and Anakin shot him a glare. 

“Yes, Admiral, though I have to wonder Ben, why you’re showing up now?” 

“Because….” the doors swished shut behind a completely fed-up former Sith Lord. 

“Excuse me, Luke.” And Kenobi disappeared. 

Luke was left staring at the two Imperial officers, both of whom were standing now, Veers with his arms folded and Piett with the resigned face that was becoming more common for him every day.

“Is this going to be a regular occurence?” Piett asked in the tones of a man who would rather drink plasma coolant. 

“I’d like to say no,” Luke replied edging out of the room, “but we’re Skywalkers so….”

He almost didn’t hear Veers.

“ _ Kriffing _ Skywalkers!!”


	14. Piett's promotion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well buckle up for angst town. I'm not sure why this one popped into my head, especially after the fun of the last one. But here's a flashback for Piett. 
> 
> I think he'd appreciate all your hugs. ;)

He lost track of how many hours he had spent on the bridge, ruthlessly clamping down on his emotions. He had hated the man, it was true. And had suffered at his hands. But he had not ever wished that death upon him. He could still hear Ozzel’s wet chokes and see his bulging eyes, mere feet from himself. That last, desperate gurgle as he turned toward Piett-- as though the Captain could do anything against the Force. The thud of his body---it sounded like someone had dropped a bag of meat on the deck. 

Lord Vader on the holoscreen, dispassionately squeezing the life from the man and calmly informing Piett what he wanted done with the fleet. 

_ You are in command now, Admiral Piett.  _

So he went through the motions of being in command. Of taking reports. Checking duty rosters. Speaking to the morgue about the disposal of Ozzel’s body.  _ Force _ . Writing to his family, because someone should. 

Then---the asteroid field. His Lady, his fleet now, going to their destruction. And he had tried.

Three years he had worked with Vader and he had watched the obsession for finding Skywalker grow. Say what you would about Vader, and people did, he had  _ seemed _ to genuinely care about Death Squadron, about the men and ships that served him faithfully. And he was being ordered to take that Squadron to their deaths, throw all that away, to find that damn ship.

So he had tried. He knew his life was forfeit. He went to Vader. His bridge crew clearly believed he would not return from that meeting. Veers had commed him as he walked to Vader’s quarters and begged him not to go. But he had to. For the sake of the men. For the sake of his Lady. And was told it was not an excuse. Vader was willing for the Lady, the pride of the fleet, his flagship, to be horrifically damaged, if not destroyed, in this obsessive quest. 

The only moment in his entire career that Piett appreciated hearing from the Emperor happened just in time. 

They had moved out of the asteroid field and Piett had an entirely new burden as damage reports flooded his datapad and alarms blared around the Lady’s bridge. So he did what he had to---he ordered repairs, he checked casualty reports, at one point, he personally had his hands in some of the Lady’s wiring, repairing damage to her bridge deflector shield. 

And then…..

Avenger reported they had her. 

_ Piett had served with Needa at one point. They weren’t quite friends, they hadn’t had time for that, but he liked the man and thought he was a good officer. And a good man. _

So good that he felt he needed to shield his men from Vader’s unpredictable wrath. And for the second time in 48 hours, Piett had to stand by as another larynx was crushed and this time, Vader  _ mocked _ his prey. 

_ Apology accepted Captain Needa. _

And all of Piett’s emotions must be silenced. Because he had his own men to think of. If he was to die, some other poor bastard would be Admiral. He would rather kill himself trying to save them than have Vader crush his throat. 

At some point, and he genuinely couldn’t say when in the eternity he experienced, Captain Kelly had walked up to his side, carefully removed the datapad he found he’d been clenching in his hands, and quietly murmured, “Admiral, I have the bridge. Please sir, go and rest.”

Piett had stared at him a beat and then realized that he was being given a reprieve. 

“You have the bridge, Captain,” he’d said in automatic tones that must have been his and then he was turning to walk as straight and confident as he could toward the blast doors. 

First hurdle cleared, he made it to the turbolift where he allowed himself to lean against the wall for support. 

_ There had been a time when he thought that Vader actually gave a damn about his men. That he was building something which Piett was proud to be part of. But this consuming obsession….. _

His deck. He felt as though he was watching someone else as his boots moved slowly toward the Admiral’s quarters---his quarters. 

Someone other than himself (perhaps Captain Kelly) had ordered his things transported here, and Ozzel’s removed. He could still smell the chemicals that the cleaning crew had used, to prepare it for their new admiral. He wondered if the smell would have faded by the time the next admiral was installed here. For he had no illusions. His death was coming swiftly in this mad chase for Skywalker. 

One of his miniature trees was tipped over. In automatic response, he carefully righted it, scooping the dirt back in with his fingers. They were trembling. 

_ Force. He needed a drink. He didn’t care if he was commed---he was going to die anyway, might as well add some liquid courage to face it.  _

He stumbled to the cabinet and found his liquor collection neatly put away. He found the strongest one he had--something from Dathomir--- and a glass, and poured it full, cursing the shaking in his hands as it spilled on the floor. 

He stumbled to his sofa and sat, taking a long fiery drink, and then set the glass on the table, and managed to remove his hat and gloves. He unfastened the top of his duty jacket and found himself gazing at his very gleaming brand new Admiral bars. 

Kriff it. He’d hated Ozzel but this had  _ not _ been the way he wanted a promotion. Six hundred men had died today as a direct result of travelling through an asteroid field. 

_ Dear family, I’m so sorry to write to you to inform you of the death of your son/father/brother. They were pulverized by a completely unnecessary asteroid trip because our commander has lost his kriffing mind over a Rebel pilot.  _

Piett took another long drink and poured another. As he made a good start on it, the lights of his quarters dipped into indigo.

He laugh/sobbed. “Yes lady, I am sad. That word…….doesn’t begin to cover what I’m feeling I’m afraid.”

Icey blue light--her color for fear. “Yes, literally afraid. I’m likely going to be dead soon….” He put the glass down again and buried his face in his hands. 

_ The Lady. What would happen if he died next? Would Vader take care of her? Today’s actions didn’t seem to indicate that he would. Piett had to find a way to survive. Someone had to try and stand between Vader’s madness and this ship and crew.  _

The icey blue was flashing at him as he lifted his face and he realized that she was frightened at his words. 

“I’m sorry….I’m sorry, Lady, I will do my best not to be. Lord Vader is….can you sense that he is not….right?”

Her regular lights flashed. <Yes>

He finished his glass and his head swam. 

“Lady, if…..if…..I can’t, then you must take care of this crew. Do  _ not _ let Lord Vader hurt you, do you understand?”

_ And that was dangerously close to treason, even in his rather intoxicated ears.  _

She flashed her lights and gave him indigo again. 

“I’m sorry, Lady, but you need to be prepared, if I……” he reached for the bottle again, and suddenly strong hands were taking it from him, and he followed the hands with his eyes up to the deeply compassionate gaze of the General. 

“Enough, Firmus.” He set the bottle somewhere out of sight and came around the sofa to kneel in front of Piett and begin undoing his duty jacket. 

The Admiral’s swimming brain was struggling now, between the alcohol and the exhaustion of terror. 

“Max. You’re in sickbay.” He raised a finger to point at him. “You will be in soooooo much trouble with Henley.”

“I discovered today, much to my shock,” Veers began, helping Piett shrug out of the jacket and reaching for his boots next, “that underneath multiple layers of baked on cynicism and appalling condescension, the Doctor might possibly have a heart. When he heard you were on a path to throw yourself between Vader and this crew, he let me go early. And your Lady got my attention a short while ago by blinding me with that white light she’s chosen for you.”

The General had finished wrestling off his boots and Piett noted the still pink and healing lines on his face from his injuries on Hoth. 

“Now,” said Veers firmly. “I would say congratulations, but this is not the time and I’m so kriffing sorry that it happened this way, Firmus.”

“He was right next to me,” Piett whispered, and found himself irrationally angry that his hands were still shaking. “I need one more drink, Max, I’ve got to keep it together….”

“You do need one more drink, Admiral, but not alcohol.” The General rose and procured a glass of water which he came back and handed carefully to his friend. “That’s an order, drink it all. I found out how long you were on the bridge, and you are no doubt dehydrated. Drinking that much….” he looked back at the bottle, “damn when you go for it, you really do, don’t you? Dathomirian vodka? Yes, more water it is.” 

Piett did not like the feeling of crumbling, but it was happening and he couldn’t make it stop. He tried anyway. “Techina---telechni---kriff,  _ technically _ , I outrank you now, General Veers.”

He saw Max pause and glance at him with an eyebrow raised. “Well. Even plastered, trust you to know your military protocols by heart. That is true,  _ Admiral _ .”

Piett flinched at the title. Veers relented, getting more water silently and snagging the duvet from the bed in the other room.

_ Don’t be comforting Max. I can’t. I will break utterly and I don’t think I have time for that. _

Another glass of water was shoved into his hands and then his duvet was draped around his shoulders. Veers seated himself close to his friend. 

“I know you pretty well now Firmus, would you agree?”

Piett just nodded, drinking the water, letting it slide down a throat that was feeling tighter by the moment.

_ Like Ozzel’s, like Needa’s. _

“So I hope you can trust me enough to believe what I’m going to say.” Veers paused, considering. “A great deal of bantha poodo has occurred in the last several days. Hoth was a success in some ways. But I lost three walkers.”

“I’m sorry, Max I should have….”

“You should have nothing, Firmus. You haven’t had a single second to breathe until now and I know it. My point is, that our commander is…..not what we had hoped. But we both have men under our command and I know that you care about that. If what I overheard you telling the Lady is any indication…..you don’t expect to make it much longer.”

Piett shuddered involuntarily and in a rare move (he  _ must _ look pathetic) Veers got an arm around him. 

“I’m here to tell you, that you  _ must _ . Keep your head down, follow orders, do your best as you always do, and hope that Lord Vader remembers that you are one of his most competent and loyal officers.”

_ And he would like to find some shreds of hope in that, he would, but…. _

“Did you…..” he cleared his throat and gave another attempt. “Did you hear about Needa?” 

A pause. Veers sighed. “Yes. Kriff it. Were you there for that too?” 

And the throat that was now unbearably tight wouldn’t work for him to make any words, and Piett leaned forward to hide his face in his hands as his shoulders shook.

Veers’ arm tightened around him. 

“Get it out here, Firmus, it won’t help to try and bury that. I’ll be here as long as you need.” 

_ You’re in command now, Admiral Piett.  _


	15. The family gift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So I had this little idea as I was working on my next bigger story. I am referencing some events that happen there, but hopefully have made them clear enough to follow this little one shot. 
> 
> Shameless self promotion---if like Veers, you want to know more of their situation, you might need to read that story when I start publishing it. :) But I've tried to make this so you don't have to have read it to pick up the gist.

She had flat out refused to let them come and watch for two months. Veers felt that was actually completely understandable. She may love Solo, but the man’s irrepressible desire to be irreverent about most things would not have been a good thing in this instance for their relationship. 

Her brother would not have been so unkind, but she was clearly quite self conscious about this---hells, she hadn’t even let Piett come for the first month and she trusted him most of all, not to belittle her efforts. 

He appreciated what it said about her faith in him. She responded well to his completely calm and dispassionate instruction--it seemed to make her less nervous and served him well too. 

When she had approached him in his office and quietly asked if he would give the time to train her in hand to hand, he had naturally agreed, but had definitely felt some trepidation---not only was she a head of state and daughter to his commander, she had the legendary Skywalker temper and he was not sure what he would be faced with when she came into the gym that first day. 

But she had also been raised on Alderaan, and knew the skill of listening well. She paid close attention to his instruction, and, with the possible exception of Piett, she was the fastest learner he had trained. 

He and the Admiral had worked out numerous effective moves over the years, for fighting when one didn’t have a height advantage. It only needed a little fine tuning for the Princess’s even smaller form to teach her how to employ the same moves. He showed her that her advantages were speed, angles, and a thorough knowledge of the body’s weakest points. Of course, if she was to engage a different species, this could be problematic, but he would save those lessons for later. 

Once she was willing for Piett to join them, he and the Admiral were able to show her how combat could look once she had fully mastered her training. 

_ Veers came down hard, back on the mat and the air driven immediately out of his chest as Piett’s knee was there a second later and his arm across the General’s throat. He grinned widely into his friend’s eyes before sitting back and allowing him up. _

_ “Kriff, Firmus have you been holding back all the other times? I should always have an audience if you’re going to fight like this,” Veers said, sitting up and rubbing his sternum, before accepting his friend’s hand and rising to his feet.  _

_ “That was amazing, Admiral,” commented the princess from the side, evoking the particular smile that Piett had for her.  _

_ “You’ll be able to do that as well, your Highness with practice,” he replied. “Max is without question, the best teacher.” _

_ “Well compliments all around then,” said Veers. “Your turn your Highness.” _

And so here they were today. Solo and Skywalker were very interested to see how her lessons had been progressing. The princess was wearing the face that she had when she was inwardly nervous and seeking to project confidence instead. Veers thought of it as her ‘Senate face’ as he stepped onto the mat. Piett patted her arm (Firmus was a complete pushover where she was concerned) and she flashed him a grateful smile before joining Veers. 

The Admiral seated himself by Skywalker as Solo threw the princess a jaunty salute. Veers could just hear them. 

“Does your Father know about this?” Piett asked the young commander. 

“ _ I _ was barely allowed to know about this,” the Jedi replied. “I imagine she’ll tell him once she feels like she could take him on in hand to hand.”

_ Well that was quite the mental image,  _ Veers thought. 

“All right your Highness,” he said out loud. “Whenever you’re ready.” 

She approached him warily, watching his shoulders, he noted, as he had taught her. There were many elements they had incorporated into this training---boxing had been one of them, quite useful in learning to anticipate an opponent’s movement. She had been quite clear beforehand that she did not want him to go easy on her.

“ _ I have only done this for two months, General,” she’d stated, hands on her hips, “I don’t want to ever be under any illusions that I am better than I actually am. Be ruthlessly honest, it could save my life and that’s what I want to learn.”  _

_ Piett hid his smile behind them. Sometimes her Father in her was so very present.  _

_ “Absolutely, your Highness,” Veers had replied. “I understand.”  _

He drew her out, and made her strike the first blow which he dodged easily. Her eyes narrowed---she was frustrated at herself for allowing him to bait her. They continued. She managed to do a quite credible job at escaping three of his holds. 

Both Skywalker and Solo sat forward when he threw her to the mat for the first time and he was sure it was difficult for them not to say something. He gave Solo in particular, credit for more self control than he thought for not coming for him right then. He didn’t give her time to get up though---she had told him not to. She was well aware that she would not get time to recover in a real situation and that was the point. 

He came after her swiftly and suddenly she kicked a leg up as he approached and caught him squarely in the solar plexus. He coughed and she rolled away. 

_ Oh very well done indeed, princess. Playing helpless.  _

Solo proved his hold on self control was temporary as he crowed at her success. Piett looked ridiculously proud, and Skywalker smiled calmly. The princess herself was watching warily. 

_ No, your Highness. You should be pressing your advantage.  _

He rose quickly and came for her, seeing the surprise in her brown eyes, followed swiftly by the realization that she had made a mistake. She threw her hands up in a defensive stance…...and suddenly Veers found himself flying across the mat to land heavily 15 feet away…

….  _ and she hadn’t touched him.  _

Utter silence reigned in the gym. 

Then Piett came to his feet and hurried over to Veers as Skywalker moved to his sister who was staring in open fear at her hands, still stretched out in front of her. 

“Damn, I suppose I should have considered that little family anomaly in all of this,” Veers commented to the Admiral who, while looking concerned, was also looking singularly unsurprised

“Are you all right, Max?” 

Veers sat up and pointed at his friend. “You knew she could do that. You’ve seen it before, haven’t you?”

“I…”

But the princess herself interrupted, breaking out of her frozen stance and hurrying over.

“I’m so sorry, General! I’m sorry, I didn’t know….are you all right?” 

“Nothing hurt but my pride, your Highness.” He got to his feet as Skywalker got an arm around his twin.

“Leia….”

“No. I don’t…..Please….”

Veers had never seen this fearless young woman look like this before. She was terrified  _ of herself. _

Solo joined them and she turned to him.

“I don’t want to hurt anyone,” she told him fiercely. “Not the people I care about.”

The smuggler clearly understood as did the young Jedi, looking at her with pity. 

“Listen, your Worship, the whole point of you learning combat is to keep you and the people with you safe. As far as I’m concerned, this is a big bonus.” He smiled at her warmly and she seemed to calm slightly. 

“You’ve done it before,” Skywalker stated calmly to her and she turned to look at him, eyes still huge.

“Yes. I…..” She looked at Piett who gave her an encouraging little smile. 

“When we were escaping those insurgents on Ganthel….it...it happened twice.”

“What was the context?” he brother asked, still calm and Veers was quite curious as well. 

“Well, I….I moved a sewer grate.”

Piett was looking at her intently. She held his gaze, “we had to get out and it was the only way, so I just...told it to move.”

“You  _ told _ it to move,” Veers stated.

“Yes, it was so heavy and we….”

“Wouldn’t have been able to get out otherwise,” Piett finished. “Rather impressive to watch I must say.” He smiled at her and the princess seemed to take courage from this. 

“All right, you defeated the grate, what else did you do?” Solo asked with his arm around her.

“We were surrounded at one point….and….and they wounded the Admiral and I just panicked…..”

“Saved my life actually,” put in Piett firmly, and Veers looked at him. His friend was in full protective mode, projecting reassurance as hard as he could. 

“But…. I  _ killed _ them.” In a soft voice, looking up at Solo. 

_ Well. All right then. This might be the deadliest woman in the galaxy.  _

“Were you trying to?” Skywalker asked.

“Luke!” the Corellian exclaimed. 

“Were you?” he pressed his sister and they were looking at each other as only twins could. 

“NO. I just wanted to protect…..” she trailed off as she saw Skywalker smile at her and Piett crossed his arms and gave a little nod as though to say ‘exactly’. 

“Then it’s no different from using a blaster. Or a lightsaber for that matter. Leia, it’s you. Of course you would instinctively use it to defend, to help. Clearly, you could have killed the General.”

“Thanks for that, Skywalker.” 

“But you  _ didn’t _ . Without even thinking or trying, you used  _ exactly as much power as you needed to _ in the situation. 

The princess was staring at him and Veers could see her fear starting to ebb. 

_ And if that was without thinking or trying….kriff. _

“I would think, your Highness,” put in Piett, “ that this power allows you to perhaps sense intent as well. Those men would have killed us in seconds if you had not acted.”

“But I didn’t want to kill, just keep them from hurting you!”

“Indeed,” Piett nodded, “but you were doing the same thing moments before, just with a blaster.” 

Veers really needed to hear the rest of this story. 

“The Admiral is correct, Leia. I know you’re afraid, but I think you’ve demonstrated very clearly that the Force is being used quite well in your hands.”

Veers decided to try and put his two credits in. 

“This is a great new method for training, your Highness. I must confess, I’d be quite curious to find out how we can incorporate your Force abilities here.”

She looked at him almost shyly. “Are you sure, General? After I threw you across a room?”

He grinned at her.

“In my book, princess, that's a huge asset.”

“Then I’d like to keep working with you if that’s all right.”

Veers was not used to this many people looking at him with such approval. 

“Well, no time like the present. Skywalker, your input would be appreciated as well.”

“Pushover,” Piett murmured next to him and Veers angled a glare down at his friend as the others moved toward the central mats again. 

“You, Admiral, are the worst hypocrite I know.” 

Piett just grinned at him.


	16. Developing a sense of humor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A big thank you to cmdrtekk and vir87 for giving me inspiration here. Cmdrtekk had suggested the idea of the Lady being involved in shenanigans and vir87 handed me the idea of Veers being her partner in crime. 
> 
> I enjoyed writing this and cracked myself up with several visual images. I may have been overly tired..... :)

“Isn’t there a really dangerous mission we could go on?” Veers asked seriously. Piett leaned against the wall of the turbolift and gave him what Veers referred to as his most ‘Imperial’ look. 

“Happily no, not at the moment.”

“You’re the Admiral. What good is that if you can’t invent a really dangerous mission for us?”

Piett crossed his arms and sighed. “You’re in one of those moods then. This is hardly the worst part of our job. And I am the Admiral, but I am not the  _ only _ Admiral. We need to work together.”

“Do you have any idea how many other things I could be doing instead of this?”

“Yes, yes I do, because I have a list of similar length waiting for me, Max!”

“Which is why you should be sympathetic to this. Get the Lady to help us out here.” 

Piett leveled his cool hazel gaze at his friend. “General Maximilian ‘Iron Max’ Veers---decorated war hero and galactic legend, quails in the face of his terrifying new opponent…….inter fleet meetings. Can he possibly prevail? Watch this space for more as our hero….”

“Hilarious, Firmus.” But Veers was struggling against a grin. “Lady, surely you could set off an alarm or something,” he said looking up. Nothing. 

Piett looked smug. “She knows better than to listen to you, General.” 

Veers rolled his eyes. “Someone needs to teach this girl about a sense of humor.”

“Yes, that’s just what we need. An Executor class Super Star Destroyer whose idea of a practical joke is to scorch the other ships with a plasma blast.”

Veers raised his eyebrows. “Do you think she would?”

“Max! Honestly…”

“Admiral, you know I would never encourage such behavior.” 

Piett gave him a skeptical look as the lift came to a stop and they stepped out to make their way to the Senior Officer’s conference room. 

They had these meetings once a month now as they continued to figure out how to best integrate their fleets and decide on refueling, resupplying and when the best time might be to make a move on Kuat and ultimately, Coruscant. 

The galaxy was still in upheaval and the news on the holocasts from the Capitol was one of confusion and unrest. Their current strategy as the newly minted fleet of the New Republic, had been travelling to various systems, garnering support in the wake of the crushing defeat of the Imperial forces at Endor. This meant that the politicians and military needed to be working closely. 

Since Vader had appointed him as the liaison between the fleets, Piett was a rather crucial part of the meetings. He rarely spoke at length however, seeing it as his job to arbitrate more than anything else, or steer the potentially dangerous conversations back into safer waters. 

Veers had to be there as a senior military officer and if Piett struggled with the meetings, it was absolute torture for the General who preferred to allow his Walkers to do the talking. 

It was particularly torturous, Veers reflected, because Firmus had to sit between Ackbar and the princess on the other side of the table, so he couldn’t even amuse himself by seeing how far he could push his friend’s calm. 

Then there was Madine and Veers couldn’t explain it---he just didn’t like the man. From his fussy beard that reminded Veers of an ornamental hedge, to the way that he would address Piett-- ‘AD-miral’-- just barely this side of respect, he rubbed Veers the wrong way. 

They all sat as Mon Mothma entered and Veers pulled out his datapad to at least _look_ like he was busy taking notes. 

It flashed green at him, the color the Lady had chosen for him. She had only ever done this once before. 

_ What? _

He glanced upward quickly and then back down to catch Piett’s slightly curious gaze. He gave a little shrug and turned his attention back to the pad….

….and found a picture of Madine’s head super imposed upon a little rat-like greeper. 

Veers bit down hard on the inside of his cheek. Ackbar was speaking and he could not disgrace himself. He glanced around to see if anyone had noticed his slight twitch when the picture had showed up. Happily, they all seemed to be listening to the Admiral.

He looked back down in time to see the image shift to place Madine’s head on a blurrg next. 

_ Holy kriffing hell, Lady, you will get me in so much trouble. And I love you for this.  _

Veers wondered if she could pick up lip movement. He credited her with that. Carefully he mouthed, ‘thank you’ still looking at his data pad. The screen flashed green briefly. He glanced up again and this time was speared by Piett’s direct and suspicious gaze. 

Trust his friend to pick up on his small tells. He tapped his data pad with one finger and the Admiral, still looking at him dubiously, slid his out and onto his lap. Veers was watching him when Piett twitched suddenly and the gloved hand he had resting on the table clenched into a fist. The princess looked at him in concern and he mustered a smile for her with super human effort. 

Veers looked at his own data pad again and realized that he was staring at a Madine head on a porg. He started coughing and Ackbar paused in his speaking as they all looked in concern at him.

“Sorry,” he wheezed. “I must be getting….something.”

Piett gave a tiny head shake of disgust and deliberately turned his datapad over, before looking pointedly at the ceiling. 

_ And would that be enough for her, or had the Lady decided Veers was an ally? Had she too picked up on the way that Madine spoke to her Admiral? _

He waited to look at the data pad until Ackbar was in full flow once more. 

_ Madine as a Hutt.  _

Force have mercy.

_ Lady, I think I’m pulling multiple muscles in my abdomen.  _

He tried to surreptitiously wipe at his eye and pretend he didn’t see Piett’s raised eyebrow, as he watched Madine rise and turn on the holo projector for his presentation. The lights dimmed slightly so it would show better and immediately, this became the best meeting Veers had ever attended. 

“....if we can all agree that a jump from here to this star system is merited AD-miral…”

“Ah, which system?” came Mon Mothma’s gentle tones, “I think there might be some mistake…”

And Veers realized they were all looking at the back end of a mudhorn. 

_Lady, you are a master. I adore you._

Madine shot a furious look at the hapless young tech in the back of the room.

“I’m so sorry sir, I’m not sure what’s happening…”

The image shifted to the star system that Madine desired, and after another cold look to the poor officer, the General continued.

Veers dared to glance toward Piett who had a very still and dangerous look on his face as he met the General’s look. 

Veers raised innocent eyebrows and Piett leveled his most chilling Fleet Admiral glare at him. The princess next to him, however, was still covering the remains of a smile and Veers took hope from that. If Piett was going to kill him for corrupting his Lady, perhaps he could throw himself on the mercy of her Highness. 

_ Well Lady, you certainly found your sense of humor. I absolutely love you.  _

He realized the room had gone silent once more and shot his gaze back to the holo image. It was a still of Madine in a mess hall in very unflattering mid-chew. 

There were now some snickers going around the table and Veers felt justified in turning a slight smile at the Admiral. Piett had his hand over his mouth and was frowning as though he was displeased, but Veers knew the man well.

That hand was trembling ever so slightly.

“Could you be more incompetent!” Madine snapped. 

“Sir,” the poor, unfortunate tech pleaded. “I can assure you…”

“I can assure  _ you _ Ensign, unless you correct the issue right now, you will face…”

“General,” interrupted Piett’s mild tones, but his face was hard. “ I am sure Ensign Foley is doing his best. Sometimes the Lady’s holo streams can get corrupted.”

_ Firmus, you smooth talking liar. That never happens.  _

“Convenient timing I must say!” the General sputtered angrily.

“Please continue General Madine,” Mon Mothma said kindly, though she too was smiling. 

Madine stared around at all of them in what he no doubt thought was a threatening manner.

Veers pondered whether there was a way to buy the equivalent of a round of drinks for a Star Destroyer. 

But the Lady was saving her coup de grâce.

“If this is what I can expect on your flagship, I must say I don’t have a very high opinion of how it’s run, AD-miral…..”

And porg-Madine flashed up on the holo image in all its giant, wide mouthed glory.

A moment of stunned silence and then Leia Organa Skywalker choke-snorted and promptly put her head down against Piett’s arm, her shoulders shaking. 

And the room broke. 

Piett was trying so very hard to retain his unflappable calm but his mouth was trembling on both sides and it didn’t help to have a princess clearly crying with laughter into his shoulder.

Mon Mothma was smiling widely while the other officers were openly guffawing and wheezing. 

Madine strode from the room, trailing his offended dignity. 

Veers couldn’t tell if Ackbar was laughing as most of the nuance in Mon Calamari expressions was lost on him.

His data pad flashed green at him again and he grinned widely up at the ceiling. 

_ I’m so proud of you, Lady. There will be hell to pay, but it was worth it.  _


	17. Sergeant Ellery gets surprised

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a little look into Sergeant Ellery's head during In the Trenches We Find Our Friends. If you haven't read that, it might be helpful, but you'll likely be all right if not. :) 
> 
> Because cmdrtekk is a good idea factory, this is once again a shout out for the prompt. :) I appreciate being stretched to consider all these perspectives, so thank you for good ideas!

Ellery had been in the army for fifteen years now. There wasn’t much that could surprise him anymore really, particularly as he had always intended to be a career man, and so expected there to be a great deal of bantha poodo to wade through.

Thus, he could be calm in the face of a wide variety of situations. It was this ability that had given him the promotion to Sergeant and he was proud to serve in Death Squadron. Unlike numerous others, he didn’t have any family--this was it. 

When the shuttle went down, he was sure all of it was over. It had been a good run. 

But he woke to a bad headache and a mild composed voice giving orders. He staggered to his knees and took in some deep breaths before looking around him. 

There were bodies--both dead and alive. It was kriffing hot inside and he joined some of the other survivors in pulling out the dead and wounded, laying them carefully in the shade of the downed shuttle as directed by the officer calling out orders. 

Ellery wiped his sweating forehead and looked out into the distance. He could just see some of the TIEs swooping over the base they were attacking and could feel the faint vibrations in the earth as the massive AT-ATs made their assault. 

“Listen up!” the officer called. Ellery turned his full attention to the man for the first time. He was quite short and slim and, more interestingly, a navy Captain. The liaison, Ellery realized, after wondering for a minute why a navy man was with them. 

“Those who are able will come with me and rejoin the troops. Those of you who are wounded will stay here with the casualties. You,” he pointed at a young lieutenant with a broken arm, “contact the medics and get yourselves evacuated. Questions? All right let’s move out. Navy scouts will take point, followed by army, followed by the rest of you.”

And they moved out, the Captain at Ellery’s heels, his own blaster rifle drawn and carried with a fair degree of confidence. Ellery signalled to his fellow scouts as they approached the battle and some large boulders loomed near. They took cover and he pulled out his macrobinoculars to assess the situation. 

_ An ion cannon. Well son of a Hutt, that made this trickier.  _

He turned to the officer behind him and handed him the binocs, informing him of his findings. The Captain observed the terrain as well and Ellery took the moment to study him.

Not all that remarkable really, and his build was certainly not impressive. Ellery dwarfed him. But there was something in his manner, the way he carried himself and spoke…..

Ellery had served numerous officers over the years. Many were very young, getting their experience and turning to the more mature and competent sergeant to help them. He’d served truly terrible tacticians and men who had their position due to their background. He’d served good men who fought alongside them and he’d served men who had died with their troops. 

He considered himself a rather good judge of officer material therefore, and this keen eyed naval Captain had something special. Certainly, here they all were, following his orders without question.

Then, General Veers’ walker was hit and the Captain twitched as though struck himself. 

He barked out orders to the others, splitting their forces and Ellery found himself running at the man’s heels on a rescue mission for the walker crew. 

The Captain handed off his blaster rifle to one of the troopers and swung himself up to the head without hesitation. 

_ Well he can’t get them out by himself. _

Ellery followed him up. The Captain was tugging at the metal. “Sergeant!” he called, panting. “Help me make this opening bigger. Have your men cover for us.”

Ellery called down his orders, swinging his rifle to his back and crouching to grasp the lip on the other side. They pulled until it was just large enough for the Captain’s slight frame to fit through.

“All right Sergeant….”

“Ellery sir,” he told him.

“All right Ellery, I’m going in to check on the crew. You keep making this opening wider, as I’m pretty sure not everyone there is built like me.”

“Yes, sir,” Ellery responded and watched in mild astonishment as the Captain slid himself without hesitation into the damaged walker. 

He and the men had always respected an officer who led in action as well as command. He hoped those navy boys knew that they had a good one here. 

“Sir…!” one of the troopers called and was cut off. Ellery looked up and found himself staring at the eyes of a Rebel Twi’lek aiming a blaster at him. He motioned to the side with the weapon and Ellery raised his hands carefully. 

“Get down,” called a woman and Ellery hesitated, not wanting to leave the Captain on his own.

“Now.” And the blaster warmed up with its distinctive noise. Ellery jumped down and numerous rebels clambered up to take his place.

He watched as they cornered the Captain, who was hauled out and shoved, landing hard in the dirt near Ellery himself. The rebels secured their prisoners and finished pulling the wounded and dead out of the walker. 

As the Colonel fell, unconscious to the earth, the naval officer yelled at them in rage. 

_ Did he know Veers? _

Ellery watched as he was viciously backhanded, but came up spitting blood and…. _ Outer Rim curses _ ?

The Rebels noticed it too, mocking him.

And then.

They began shooting their prisoners. 

“No! You bastards!” Ellery was faintly aware that the Captain was yelling at them as well. As they approached Colonel Veers, the naval officer struggled to his feet and moved to plant himself between the weapons and the body of Veers. 

“Out of the way stoopa,” and Ellery winced for him as he was struck with the butt end of a rifle. But he was moving back up immediately, more blood running down his face, a snarl of determination fixed on his countenance. Ellery’s respect shot up.

“You’ll take both or none,” he told them boldly, standing once more over Veers.

_ There was a connection there then--friends? _ Ellery wondered. The Captain was hit again and the Rebels were laughing now and Ellery felt a fierce desire in his chest to help this man, whose courage was far bigger than his stature. He met the Captain’s eyes as he once more fought to get to his feet, and tried to convey his own strength and support in that look. 

_ You can do it, sir. Don’t let the kriffers win.  _

The Twi’lek punched the Captain in the gut and he doubled over, but kept his feet. 

Ellery felt the sudden desire to take the alien apart piece by piece as the woman strolled over to question him. 

“Would you die for him?” she asked the navy man and Ellery felt a new round of fear.

_ No. The Captain should live _ . He tried to bring their attention to himself instead. 

“Sir..” he started and was struck himself with a blaster rifle. 

“Yes,” he could hear the Captain say through the ringing of his own ears.    
  
  


He watched in painful anticipation as a blaster was leveled between the Captain’s eyes. He didn’t flinch.

And in that moment, Ellery vowed to do all he could to keep the man alive. 

*

  
  


Which brought him here. Sitting in the quiet room, listening to the regular sounds of the machines that kept tabs on the life signs of the still form lying in the sickbay bed. 

Braxton had left moments before, confident that all would be well, to take a much needed break. After the chaos of getting Piett out of the canyon and the focused action in the shuttle, this was the first time Ellery was able to really process things himself.

Force, he was tired. But he was going to follow Colonel--that is  _ General-- _ Veers’ instructions rigidly. Piett would not leave his sight. He lowered himself into the chair by the Captain’s bed and rested his blaster on his lap. 

He hadn’t even learned the navy man’s name until they were on the way to rescue him. Ellery still felt sick thinking about how Piett had been left behind. He had  _ known _ . Ellery had looked into hazel eyes that held the knowledge of his death with certainty, and again, the Captain hadn’t flinched. 

Braxton had made sure the Captain would be deeply asleep for some time after he had come out of the bacta and Ellery was grateful on his behalf. Piett looked peaceful enough, hair damp from the bacta, and shoulder and side heavily swathed in fresh bandages to protect his healing injuries. 

Ellery pondered Fate as he looked at him---the Captain looked even smaller lying here like this, but when he was awake and in command, it was so very easy to forget about his stature. Perhaps Fate had decided to balance things out for Piett--giving him a diminutive form, but Starship sized courage and the gift of leading. 

He would speak to Veers about being posted to the Executor permanently. Surely there was a post of some kind available to him. Because Ellery was going to take his self imposed mission very seriously. He was going to keep the Captain alive as long as he had breath in his own body.

After another couple hours, Piett stirred and Ellery started as very sleepy eyes found his. 

“Sergeant….?”

“Right here, sir.” Ellery knew he was grinning like a damn fool. 

“You...all right?” 

And that. Right there, that was why Ellery would follow this man to the outer reaches of the galaxy. That immediate focus, even barely conscious, on his men.

“Just fine, sir,” he replied with certainty.

“That’s….good.” Piett was already sliding under again and likely wouldn’t remember this little exchange at all. 

Ellery waited until the Captain was fully asleep once more, before he relaxed back into his chair. 

He’d be right here. He’d found his place. 


	18. Redemption isn't easy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So. I'm sorry ahead of time. But this popped into my head and I thought, yeah, it's lovely to have all my people alive and having adventures together. But.....they have baggage. Like they filled the Titanic to the brim with their baggage.   
> It's not healthy to keep all that stuff packed up. So occasionally my people need to work it out. 
> 
> In this case, how do Piett and Anakin deal with Needa's death and all that surrounded it? 
> 
> Bear in mind this is in my AU so Luke was caught at Bespin though the others escaped.

It had been another year. How swiftly time was flowing by! He’d tucked himself into his favorite secluded spot, well sheltered by the Nabooan willows and fairly deserted at this hour. Max had shared one quick drink with him as he always did on this day, and then left him to it. He hadn’t been there when it happened. He respected that Piett needed to wrestle with those thoughts and memories on his own. 

Piett swirled the drink in his glass, appreciating the rich ruby color of the brandy. He had removed his hat and it sat before him now on the small table. 

He tried to remember, had  _ his _ hat stayed on as he fell to the floor? He had been trying not to watch it happen---trying to block out the awful noises and the final, horrible crunch as his throat was crushed. 

And of course, there had been his own consuming terror. 

_ Don’t fail me again, Admiral. _

Piett took a sip and stared out at the stars. They were in orbit near Bothawui and he enjoyed this view immensely. Well. He would. 

But not today. Today was the anniversary of Lorth Needa’s death and he was honoring it as he did every year. 

He grappled with his questions every time. Why didn’t he feel this badly for Kendall Ozzel? Yes, the man had been incompetent and unpleasant, but he hadn’t deserved such a death, just as Needa hadn’t. 

Why had Vader killed Needa? He did not tolerate fools, so in that respect, Ozzel’s death made some sort of bizarre sense. But Needa….he had been a good man and a good officer. 

And….why had Piett himself lived? Was it purely because they had Luke Skywalker? When the Falcon had snapped into hyper space, Piett was positive that he too would experience a broken neck. But Vader had just left the bridge, with only an inclined helmet in his direction. 

But here he was. He didn’t know if anyone else honored the fallen Captain. Perhaps they did on the Avenger. But this wasn’t a day he wanted to drink with others or share stories. He hadn’t know the man well enough for that. 

He raised his glass to the brightest star he could see outside the viewport.

“I hope you’re at rest wherever you are.”

“To whom are you toasting, Admiral?” came familiar tones behind him and the last person that Piett wanted to see on this day, at this moment, came to stand beside him.

Anakin Skywalker was looking down at him curiously.

  
  


**

  
  


Anakin paused as he set foot in the officer’s lounge. He had come from a civil dinner with Luke and his daughter and was preparing to depart the Executor. They had managed not to raise their voices once, and largely through Luke’s hard work, the conversation had stayed on neutral and light territory. Anakin learned several things. 

-Solo and General Veers were not friends precisely, but met occasionally for drinks. 

-The Lady might possibly have pranked Luke, but it also could have been Solo, so the jury was still out.

_ <Did you have his X-Wing moved through several different hangars, Lady?> _

_ <It was impeding other vessels, Dark one.> _

_ <Was it really? He sent amused.> _

_ <There was potential for the vessel to be a hazard. I considered this from numerous angles.> _

_ Was that her way of saying ‘from a certain point of view’?  _

_ <It is possible that you are giving too much weight to General Veers’ input, Lady.> _

_ <Thank you for your input, Dark one.> _

_ Anakin was pretty sure she had just used sarcasm. His ship. Well…. _

-Leia had no desire to learn how to pilot a fighter but rather enjoyed some recent instruction on piloting a Super Star Destroyer.

-Piett and Veers had a private competition for the top scores on the practice range and Venka and Solo therefore had a private bet about it.

  
  
  


Altogether a pleasant time for Anakin and a precious memory that he didn’t deserve. He had set out to find the Admiral in order to say farewell before he departed the ship.

He had easily found Piett, but the emotions he sensed from the Admiral made him hesitate.

_ Grief, anger, confusion, loss _ . 

Had something happened? 

He moved further into the large room toward the more sheltered spot in the back corner, where Piett came into view, sitting with a glass in his hand and gazing out at the stars. 

Quite suddenly, he lifted the glass in a salute out the window.

“I hope you’re at rest, wherever you are,” said the Admiral quietly and took a sip of the red alcohol.

Anakin spoke, “To whom are you toasting, Admiral?” 

He felt Piett’s sharp spike of surprise, followed swiftly by…. _ dread _ and …. _ resentment _ ? 

He rose quickly and turned to Anakin. 

“My Lord. I….did not hear you come in.”

_ Not now, please…. _

“Is everything all right, Piett?” Anakin asked, frowning. He couldn’t remember the last time that the Admiral had felt so strongly resistant to being in his presence. Not since…..

“Everything is....all right, my Lord. I was just…” 

Anakin could feel his mind working furiously. 

“...toasting fallen comrades,” Piett settled on, looking down into his glass. 

Anakin was trying to remember what this day was and if it held some significant battle or….oh.  _ Oh _ . 

_ And he was just not good with what to say. Especially here. Should he say anything? _

“I….regret Captain Needa’s death as well.”

Fury spiked in the Force.  _ Shouldn’t have said anything then _ . 

“Do you, my Lord?” said Piett coldly and Anakin realized that they had never…..talked about that whole mess. Had rather studiously stepped around it as they rebuilt life being part of the New Republic. But it was very clearly there. And once again, Anakin had a choice---he could flee this conversation or stay and have it out with his Admiral. 

If he left, things would change between them. He wished he’d never come looking for the man. He liked their camaraderie. He valued Piett. 

_ You can call him a friend you know. _ That sounded a lot like Obi-Wan in his head.  _ Kriff it. _ He owed it to the man. 

“I do Admiral. I regret a great deal about those few days.”

Piett held his gaze for a few more moments before turning to walk to the viewport, gathering himself, Anakin sensed. 

“You have questions, Piett. I think for both of us, you should ask them.” 

Piett turned his head, the starlight outside, shadowing part of his face, but Anakin could still see the intensity of his gaze.

“All right then.” He took another sip of his drink and then set the glass down, bringing his hands to rest behind his back. 

_ I have no wish to do battle with you, Admiral.  _

“We lost an entire Star destroyer in the asteroid field that day, my Lord. 40,000 lives just like that. Why? You were not like that before….”

“Obsession, Admiral. You know my reasons now.”

Piett nodded angrily. “Yes, I do. But it does not change the utter  _ waste _ of life….Does your son know how much was sacrificed in his pursuit?”

Anakin winced. Piett could hit hard. “It has...not come up yet.”

He felt Piett’s shift of thought. “Well, perhaps it shouldn’t. It wouldn’t be fair for Commander Skywalker to bear that burden.”

_ It wasn’t fair that Piett had to bear it either _ . 

“You have more to say, Admiral. And…..I want to hear it. I owe it to you to hear it.” 

Piett bit his lip, studying him. “You built Death Squadron my Lord. For a few years, I thought it really meant something to you. We all did, I think.”

_ It did. It does. _

“Was I…..was I mistaken in thinking that? Was it ever just a tool to acquire your son?”

_ Pain at the thought that he could so easily throw them away. And, he must answer this man honestly. Too much blood and loyalty here for him to give Piett anything other than the truth. _

“It started as something of mine to be proud of Admiral. Something I had apart from the Emperor and his twisted designs.”

Anakin finally moved to join the shorter man at the viewport.

“Then I discovered the existence of my son. And I had indeed, the ideal means at my fingertips to find him. So yes, I confess that there was a point in time where Death Squadron was a means to an end. But I was reminded of how much more it was at.....Bespin.”

He felt Piett’s wince this time. 

“Yes, once you had him in hand….   
  


“No.” Anakin couldn’t bring himself to go further yet. He needed to prepare himself more for that part of this discussion.

“Then….” 

“I must ask your patience with that particular part of this conversation, Admiral. I want to treat it well and I…...am not ready.”

_ Surprise. Uncertainty. But Piett had far more grace than he did. He felt him soften.  _

“All right. Then…..You killed so many of us. I’m not saying it was ever right, but it used to make some sort of sense, when an officer had truly failed you.”

PIett paused and Anakin felt him composing himself against his own horrific memories.

“I….even Ozzel….” he stopped again. 

“You wish to ask me why I killed Captain Needa?” Anakin said the difficult words for him.

“Yes.” And those intense hazel eyes were spearing him through. 

“He was a  _ good _ man! A good officer! He came to you  _ knowing… _ .! He put himself between you and his crew! He shouldn’t have had to do that!” 

Piett had tears in his eyes and Anakin hated himself anew for the profound grief he had caused for so many. 

“As did you I recall,” he told Piett softly. The Admiral looked at him, throat working as he grappled for control. 

“Then why did you spare  _ my _ life and not his?”

Anakin turned to the stars. “I have no defense, Piett. There is nothing I can say that say that will make this better. I was angry and frustrated with the Falcon’s escape, and I took it out on him. He didn’t deserve it. And I will live with that.”

He turned back to his Admiral. “But you should not have to. There was nothing you could have done. I like to think that I would not have harmed you. I do not think I would have. You were Captain of the Lady---I do not think  _ she _ would have allowed that. But I know you feared it. And….I am sorry for that too.”

Piett looked away. “Thank you. As you see however, this is…..difficult.”

“That is not your fault, Admiral. May I ask a question of you now?”

_ More surprise from Piett _ . 

“Yes, my Lord.”

“Given…. _ this _ , why have you done me the courtesy of seeking to be, to be my  _ friend _ ?”

_ You’re allowed friends, Anakin. _

Piett blinked. “I…..I am not quite certain, my Lord.” He frowned in thought. “I suppose, that serving together as we did means something, despite all the complications. And... I watched Darth Vader change 20 years of living in darkness for the sake of his child. I have to think, that if it were me, if our situations were reversed, I would be grateful for a chance to make it right. And you need help with that.”

Anakin pondered the man before him. “Do you have any idea just how…. _ remarkable _ you are, Admiral?”

Piett looked his confusion. 

“I am not quite….certain how…”

“I have given you nothing but blood and pain. You are here, honoring the memory of a good man that I killed in my capricious anger.  _ How _ can you at the same time, befriend his murderer?”

Piett was silent for a long time and then Anakin could feel his anger bleed out and he turned to face the stars once more, placing his hands behind his back.

“It is not my job to forgive you for Captain Needa. And…..you will live with that and many other things for the rest of your life. I can only imagine the weight...I am angry, my Lord. It is quite complicated indeed. And yet, somewhere in all of it I find that I have also forgiven you as far as it is possible with me. I think I did that when I realized the sort of man you could have been if your children and your life had not been taken from you by the Emperor. The sort of man you are trying to be now.”

Anakin cleared his throat. “Very few people have seen beyond the monster, Piett.”

A small smile. “I was always in trouble for being too curious as a child, my Lord.” 

Both of them stood together at the viewport looking out at the vast beauty before them. 

“Admiral.” Anakin took a breath. He needed to deal with this last issue. “After the Millenium Falcon escaped, before I knew that we had recovered my son beneath Bespin….”

He felt Piett stiffen beside him. 

“That was the moment. The moment I knew that I couldn’t keep proceeding as I was. That I had...damaged the faith my fleet had in me.”

He felt Piett draw breath to say something and held up a hand.    
  


“Please, Admiral. I told you I wanted to do this well and I don’t trust myself to be able to say it twice.”

Piett subsided. 

“I don’t know if I ever told you that I always intended to make you fleet admiral. I had intended it not long after you joined the Executor. Once you were Captain, I was certain. But it should have been a good day for you. I made it one of the worst of your life---I know this. And barely two days into that position, I stood watching that damn ship escape and I could feel you behind me.”

Piett was holding his breath as well as his grip on his self control.

“And I knew that you intended to interpose yourself between the crew and my inevitable display of rage at perceived failure. The man I had wanted as fleet Admiral for years and ….You were so certain your death was at hand.”

The Admiral’s fists were clenched tightly behind his back, his breathing ragged at the memories. 

“I was appalled that you felt like that. That I  _ made _ you feel like that. After everything you and Death Squadron had done….My son was terrified of me. My Admiral likewise. And both of you had the courage to do what I wouldn’t----place your lives where your convictions were.”

Piett’s eyes held deep wells of remembered pain, but he was looking at Anakin directly.

_ Hope. Stirrings of peace. _

“I realize that telling you this doesn’t change what I have done. But you deserved to know---I may not have kept the faith for a time in there, but Death Squadron was  _ never _ only a means to an end.”

He held Piett’s gaze. “I will always be sorry about Captain Needa. I will always be grateful, on the other hand, that the Force had you in the right place at the right time. Thank you, Admiral for leading the men when I failed them. I’ll let you finish that drink now.”

He gave a nod to the Admiral and turned to leave.

He made it five steps when Piett’s quiet voice stopped him. 

“My Lord.”

Anakin turned. “If you have some time next week, I believe we are due for a Dejarik rematch.”

_Relief. Gratitude at the heart of this man._

“Thank you Admiral, I would like that.”

“Without the cheating if you can manage it.”

Anakin grinned. 

***

_ A true friend sticks closer than a brother. _


	19. Henley can handle it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is in response to a prompt from guepard54, who requested Leia interacting with Henley   
> I had a delightful time writing this as I think it's the first time I've used the Doctor's perspective. So thank you very much and enjoy! :)

Dr. Victor P. Henley put down his datapad in his scrupulously clean office and allowed himself a small sigh. While he held the most important position in the fleet (yes he was aware there were Sith Lords and admirals floating around----but  _ please _ , everyone knew who really kept all of this together) there were times that the responsibility of that could threaten to be overwhelming. 

Never totally overwhelming of course, because Victor P. Henley had never been overwhelmed by anything in his life and he certainly would not start now. 

But……

But now they had added two more Skywalkers to the mix and suddenly his job had taken on epic new proportions. Was there some adage in the universe that declared if one was a Skywalker, then one was by default, 5 times more prone to grave and life threatening injuries? 

_ And that was leaving the Admiral and the General out of it.  _

The amount of hero complexes aboard the Executor alone, was frankly reaching ridiculous proportions and it looked to be catching throughout the fleet. 

For kriff’s sake he had treated Rear-Admiral Venka---a man whose self preservation instincts had been, to date, legendary----for a blaster burn taken while  _ defending Han Solo _ in some recent planet side skirmish. 

He had thought that, after treating Lord Vader all these years, he had seen the worst. And in terms of the injuries the man sported that was true. 

However, he felt like the others were all in some sort of bizarre competition to catch up to that standard-----not that they ever could of course. But their combined efforts were starting to…... _ wear _ on him slightly. 

Oh, there was no concern that he couldn’t handle it. He snorted to himself. Victor P. Henley had handled it  _ all _ . 

Poisoned Sith Lords missing all their limbs? Check. 

Fleet Admirals diving around the bridge of the Executor with punctured lungs? Check.

Generals who tried to catch a whole heavy artillery barrage with their face? Check.

Jedis who tried to hide _ literally every wound ever _ , to heal it with the Force and he had to hunt them down for real treatment? Check.

So. Henley had  _ handled _ . It. All. 

Still…….it was  _ maybe _ , just possible, that perhaps he needed to find an assistant. Young Braxton had been more than capable, but Venka, curse his poaching little soul, had seen that, and offered him the position of Chief Medical Officer on board the Devastator a few years back. 

So, here he was, Victor P. Henley, having to look over a list of candidates for assistant. 

There were plenty on the list who were reasonably competent. They at least knew the difference from a bacta bandage and a pressure cuff. The thing was…...one needed that bit of  _ \----extra _ , to work with this bunch. 

Raised voices from out in sickbay, made him look up from the list and try not to glare a hole through the wall of his office.

Case in point out there right now. Exhibit number 5. And with the possible exception of Lord Vader, the worst of the bunch in terms of sheer headaches. 

The Princess Leia Organa Skywalker. 

Dr. Henley had yet to meet his match when it came to authoritative personalities. There were some who disagreed with this statement (see all candidates listed above) but they were laughably unequipped to cross metaphorical swords with him.

However. 

He was not nervous of course, but the princess certainly had…. _ something more _ in terms of exuding authority. 

No doubt various Admirals, Generals and Siths would be offended if he were to voice that thought aloud, and Henley was nothing if not courteous, so he hadn’t. But he certainly  _ thought _ it. 

He rose, straightened his uniform and made his very dignified way out to sickbay. 

The princess was sitting on one of the exam beds, _goodness she was small_ , holding one arm carefully and arguing strenuously with General Veers, and that image was so delightful that Henley paused to appreciate it for a moment.

The General was clearly frustrated and trying to reign it in because-----princess, Lord Vader’s daughter----but Henley knew that look in Veers’ eye and enjoyed the fact that someone other than himself was putting it there. 

“.....I can just wrap it and you are making a ridiculous fuss over nothing. While I appreciate your concern, General…”

“Your highness,” and Veers sighed the sigh of a man who was trying not to implode, “I am genuinely not sure what would be worse in this scenario, were I not to make sure you got some treatment: telling your father that, or telling the Admiral.”

“I’m not sure why you feel you need to tell either of them, frankly,” she replied tartly. “Everyone gets sparring injuries. Han has no problem with this and is encouraging and supportive…..”

“General Solo likes seeing you throw me on the ground.” 

She smirked up at him and Henley took a moment to process that image. 

“True. But he’s not fussing like you are.”

Henley appreciated that choice of words as Veers’ face took on a slight flush. 

“ _ Fussing… _ ..”

“Would you be this insistent if this had happened to anyone else, General?”

_ Ah, well the princess didn’t know Veers quite well enough yet, if she was asking that. _

“YES.” 

A pause, while she considered this and Henley decided to step in and take charge. Of course. 

“What seems to be the problem?” he asked.

Both of them turned to him and Henley wondered if he had ever seen a look of relief like that from the General directed at himself. 

“I just want to make sure she hasn’t broken her wrist,” said Veers tersely. 

“It isn’t that bad and if you have a wrap, we can all move on,” said the princess serenely. 

“ _ I _ will be the judge of medical issues, thank you,” said Henley, feeling the need to remind both of them who was in charge here. 

He pulled out his scanner and ran it over the wrist. Broken indeed, but not badly.

“Well?” asked the princess impatiently. Henley appreciated the fact that he could put both of them in their place at the same time before he answered.

“It is indeed broken, your Highness. But nothing we can’t fix in a few days. One moment while I get the cast.”

And he enjoyed her look of consternation over being wrong, and Veers’ slight flash of guilt over causing the injury in the first place. 

“I still don’t see why you hauled me here when we could have just called a medic,” the princess was grumbling when Henley returned. He gave her a pain killer and began to brace the injury.

“I just wanted….”

Veers was on the defensive and Henley made sure to look at him smugly. The General glared back.

“Did you think that I couldn’t handle….”

“Oh for kriff’s sake your Highness!” Veers snapped. “Of course I know you can handle just about everything this galaxy has dished out to you! Doesn’t mean I’m not allowed to care about you and make sure you get treated by the best doctor! You don’t have to do things on your own anymore……”

He trailed off as he realized that the princess was giving him a lovely smile and Henley was giving him a predatory one. 

_ Oh General. Tactical error there. I will use this for  _ **_years_ ** .

“Thank you, General. That’s….very kind.” And she relaxed at last.

“Yes, General. Good to know you have the good sense to come to me with these things,” Henley said. He should encourage Veers after all---clearly he had seen the light.

Of course, he was also clearly regretting it, judging from the way he was grinding his teeth. 

“There all done,” Henley said and the princess hopped down. “No sparring for 5 days. Come see me again after that and we’ll give you the accelerated healing treatment.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” the princess smiled. “And you, General.” 

And she was gone, leaving Veers.

“Was there anything else, General Veers?” asked Henlely calmly. 

Veers was wrestling internally. “No, thank you,” he managed, barely civil, and turned to leave. 

Victor P. Henley could be gracious in his achievements.

“General,” he said and Veers turned.

“Thank you for the kind words.”

Veers glared, overwrought and left. 

_ Yes indeed. Victor P. Henley was the best.  _


	20. Piett gets some news

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let's just say that Anakin owes Piett a lifetime of really good drinks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to cmdrtekk and guepard54 for this. Cmdrtekk for pointing out numerous ways that I could expand on various scenes that have been avoided. And guepard54 for this specific prompt.   
> I know this particular scene has been done by others, but I was admittedly nervous of doing it myself, so thanks to the above two folks again for giving me the push to do it.  
> This is how it happened in my AU head. :)

Piett was ridiculously angry that his left hand wouldn’t stop trembling. He stood in his fresher and stared at the mirror and the strain around his mouth and eyes and the dark circles that didn’t look so much like lack of sleep anymore, but rather as though someone had punched him in the face. 

With a Gundark. 

The Falcon had just jumped away mere hours before and he was still trying to process why he was alive. He had stood there and confidently assured Lord Vader that the hyperdrive was disabled. He had personally gone with the tech team and watched them do it. 

And then……

He hadn’t been able to eat anything for two days and that was probably going to hit him soon. But he had been so sure that his death was going to happen anywhere in that time, food turned to ashes. Only because Veers made him did he drink water, and half the time he couldn’t keep that down. 

The Lady flashed her lights at him. 

“I’m…..I will be all right,” he told her automatically, his instinct to comfort his ship even as he doubted his words. They had been through much together, he and the Lady, and these last two days had been the biggest test for both of them. 

Vader had nearly destroyed her in the asteroid field. Her and her 300,000 strong crew. And one newly promoted Admiral. 

So here they were in the Anoat sector near Bespin--a place that Piett would like to forget ever existed---waiting for Vader’s orders. 

They had heard nothing from him since the Falcon jumped, so Piett ordered the fleet to stay near Bespin in stationary orbit while they waited. 

They had retrieved Skywalker at last. This much Piett knew. Three years of hunting with a growing obsession for this Rebel---- Vader expending more and more of his fleet on the search, and at last they had him. 

Then---as he stood on the bridge trying to appear as though he had some shreds of control and calm left--- the comms officer had looked at him with eyes that were already saying farewell and told him that Lord Vader wished to see him. Alone. In his personal quarters.

The bridge crew within earshot mostly gave him sympathetic nods and one young tech in the Pit crew actually started crying which was nice he supposed. 

He had had the audacity to detour to his quarters first to put on a fresh duty jacket and splash some water on his face. He recorded a quick message for Veers, looked once more at his haggard reflection and then moved to the doors. 

He kept his spine as straight as possible as he made his way to Lord Vader’s quarters. He did not want to be remembered as a trembling ball of fear disguised as a human. Still, it was difficult as the scuttlebutt had clearly swept the ship like wildfire that the Admiral was going the way of Ozzel and Needa. 

He even received several salutes which he returned half heartedly and then he was in front of Lord Vader’s quarters. 

All his years of service led to this. He raised his hand to the panel and the doors parted before he could touch it. 

He straightened his jacket and walked in as confidently as he could. His eyes immediately found his commander, standing by the viewport with his back to the Admiral. He stood to attention and waited, trying to breathe and appreciate the recycled air in ways he hadn’t before. 

“I did not call you here to kill you, Admiral,” said Vader without turning around. 

And Piett’s knees forgot their proper function. Happily one of the chairs in front of Vader’s desk was within his grasp and he clutched it hard, bracing himself and internally cursing his reaction. 

_ And what did you say to that statement really? _

But Piett’s mouth was already moving. “Thank you, my Lord.”

“You should not thank me for that, Piett,” and Vader sounded angry, though….not at him?

He turned at last to look at the Admiral, and Piett managed to unclutch his hand from the chair just in time, and whip it behind his back to join the other one. He fisted them and waited. 

“You are aware I believe that we have apprehended Skywalker?” Vader asked in his direct way.

“Yes, my Lord.” Piett really needed to attach his head back to his body at some point. He was responding automatically, but didn’t feel anchored. 

“He…..was injured. The medics are with him now. As he will be with us for some time, I felt you should know…..the situation.”

The Sith Lord’s language and manner was strange---hesitant and defensive almost.

“My Lord?” Piett blessed years of strict training and rigid self control for the ability to keep his mouth functioning at the right times. 

“I know you have wondered at the focus that I have had on capturing him. You have a right to know who he is, because I must ask you to------make a choice.”

And the death option was right back on the table. Piett was feeling the lack of food now. 

_ Stay with me! _ He told his body. 

“Very well, my Lord.”

Vader moved to stand in front of him and Piett really hated it when he had to tilt his head up slightly to look at his commander. 

“Luke Skywalker is my son.”

And.

Force  _ damn _ it, his body was defying his orders. But a black leather glove had his arm in a strong grip and he found himself maneuvered into the chair nearest to him. Almost as if Vader had anticipated this. 

_ Which he probably had, kriffing Sith Lords and their dramatic news. _

Vader made an odd sound through his vocoder and Piett realized in horror, he had thought that thought right next to his commander. 

However, it seemed that perhaps Vader had not noticed it, or was choosing miraculously to ignore it. Regardless. He was talking and Piett should pay attention. 

“When was the last time you ate something, Admiral?”

“My...my Lord?”

“When. Did. You. Eat?” Vader asked as though speaking to an idiot. Which he rather was at the moment, Piett supposed. This was just so surreal.

“I’m….not quite sure, my Lord.”

“Hm.”

“My Lord, I apologize if this seems impertinent, but I want to be clear. Did you indeed just tell me that Luke Skywalker is your son?”

“I did, Admiral.”

All right. He wasn’t hallucinating then. 

“I would like to tell you more Admiral. Do pay attention.”

“Yes, my Lord.”  _ More?! _

“Many years ago I was a Jedi, known to others as Anakin Skywalker….you may not faint on me now, Piett!”

“Of course not, my Lord,” Piett managed, taking deep breaths.

“I was married and my wife and I were expecting. It was…..” he stopped and Piett had yet another blinding revelation---Vader was grieving. There was a human in that nightmare suit. Maybe his head and body should be separate so Piett could process this without his lungs or heart exploding. 

“My wife…..died, and I had thought the child was lost with her. I found out three years ago that I had been lied to. I was deeply betrayed by both my former and my current masters.”

“Three years ago,” Piett whispered, his struggling brain putting things together slowly. “Yavin. The Death Star.”

“Yes. I discovered in my search for the pilot, just who he was.”

“You… you said your current master…”

“The Emperor lied to me as well.”

_ Ok. All right. There were implications there and Piett knew what they led to but he really didn’t want to go there…. _

“The Emperor is my master and a Sith Lord as I think you are realizing, Admiral.”

_ And they were there. _

“I have had many different…. _ revelations _ recently, Piett. Now is not the time to discuss all of them. The crucial thing comes down to this.”

And the urgency in his voice. Piett had never heard that tone from Lord Vader ever before. He managed to school his failing resources to focus.

“ I am not a good man. But I now have a son in my life. I have this Squadron and the Lady. A possibility for a different life. What I do not wish for, is my son to fall to the Dark side which is the desire that my Master has for him.”

Piett blinked. _T_ _ he Emperor wanted Skywalker? Wanted to take him from his father a second time? _

“I wish to save my son, Admiral. And in order to do that, I  _ must _ renounce Palpatine. He is evil and power mad and for many years I have been content to do his bidding. I will do so no more.”

Lord Vader, Lord of the Sith was turning his back on that. Was renouncing the  _ Emperor _ for his son. 

Vader was watching him. “This cannot be achieved overnight of course. As said, I am not a good man, Piett. But you are. I would very much appreciate your support and….advice in this endeavor. This galaxy is under a dark rule. My son would see that change. Thus, I am going to do my best to change it. My best includes you, Admiral, at the helm of this Squadron.”

If he thought he was reeling before, Piett realized that  _ this _ was actually what reeling felt like. But many little things were oddly making sense now.    
  


Piett needed to know something however.

“Who would take the throne, my Lord?”

“I would gladly hand it to Luke. I have no desire for it. However, it is also a possibility, Piett, that we may need to approach the Rebellion leaders at some point.” 

Piett was beyond exhausted. He had just ridden tsunami-like waves of emotions in the last hour, last two days really. His world was in chaos. But something stood out like a lighthouse in the darkness.

Lord Vader wanted to defeat evil for his son. He was willing to put absolutely everything at risk for that. He was  _ asking for help _ . 

Piett stood up. Significant moments required standing even if his legs were threatening a strike. 

“I will help you, my Lord.”

Vader’s mask inclined. 

He held out a hand. “Thank you, Admiral.” 

_ Force help us. _

The doors hissed open behind Piett as he took Lord Vader’s hand, and familiar footsteps sounded behind him. 

“You requested me, my Lord?”

“Yes, General. Your orders are to escort Admiral Piett to his quarters and make sure he eats something. And Admiral, I do not want to see you on the bridge for at least 12 hours.”

And then Max was there and they were both saluting and making their way out of Lord Vader’s presence. 

“What was that about?” Veers asked, looking both curious and relieved. “I was terrified I was summoned to get your body.”

“I’m not sure I can tell you yet, Max” Piett answered, grateful when his perceptive friend got an arm around him to keep him upright. “But….I’m hopeful.”


	21. Shmi's griddle cakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So this prompt is from Firejay112 and I really enjoyed writing it. It's fluffier than Shmi's pancakes, but given the amount of angsty ideas I have piling up, I think we all need this moment. :)   
> Thanks so much for the idea!!

Anakin realized that he was not alone when he slowly came out of his meditation in his quarters on Executor. The Force had not flared with alarm, so he was not concerned. In fact it was almost sure to be…...Luke. He rose, stretched and came out into his main living areas. 

Piett had very graciously ensured that his old quarters were always at his disposal. When he had been imprisoned in his suit, they had been beyond spartan as he mostly spent his time alone in his hyperbaric chamber. 

Now, however, they bore the signs of living here. Between Luke and the Admiral, various pieces had been added: two sofas and several simple, but comfortable chairs. A few plants from Naboo (Luke’s touch certainly) A painting of the beautiful lake at Varykino. When it had appeared, Anakin had pressed Luke and his son insisted it wasn’t his idea. He’d gone to Piett next but the Admiral had clearly no idea of the significance of that location. 

Which left…...Well. He wasn’t going to ask her. It was clearly a peace offering then and he appreciated it. 

He had almost forgotten that his quarters contained a small galley, but as he came out, he could see the back of his son, messing around with various bowls and containers of food. 

“What are you doing, young one?” Anakin asked, coming to his side. 

A large, flat pan was heating on the counter. Luke was pondering a container of….was that Nuba flour?

“I’m trying to remember how to make the griddle cakes that Aunt Beru used to do. We only did it a few times a year, for special things, since flour was so expensive.”

Yes. Anakin recalled that breads and pastries on the desert planet were usually for the wealthy. He saw a large container of blue milk as well as sugar.

“Where did you find the blue milk?”

“This ship is the size of a large city. You have everything here,” Luke replied grinning easily at him. 

“What is that?” Anakin asked, pointing to a small container of brown powder. 

“My greatest find,” Luke declared and Anakin rolled his eyes. 

“Aunt Beru said that this is how she learned to make these--add a pinch of pila spice, it’s just the….Father?”

Because realization had swept over Anakin as Luke opened the container and the strong scent hit his nose.

_ Shmi’s griddle cakes. Luke was making his mother’s…… _

“I…….it is nothing my son. Why can you not insist on making a horrendous mess in your own quarters?”

“I don’t have as much space as you do.”

“Not a good reason.”   
  


“I thought you could help.”

“Definitely not.” 

Luke hit him with a look that might have been effective when he was a child, had Anakin been there to see it. He was unmoved. 

“Fine,” Luke sighed, turning back to his project. “Watch then. The hard part is, I don’t have this written down, so I’m sort of winging it.”

Anakin retreated from the overwhelming smell, his memories threatening to pull him under like a rip tide. He sat and watched as Luke measured the Nuba flour and winced as a white cloud hit the floor as well. 

“Sorry about that! I’ll make sure we get some mouse droids to clean up later.”

“Surely your sister’s quarters….”

“Leia hates cooking. Besides she has a meeting right now.”

“Not the point Luke, you could still use her….not so much blue milk.”

Luke lifted an eyebrow at him. 

“Oh  _ now _ you are the expert?”

“I know many things that you do not, young one.” 

Luke snorted. “Oh no, I forgot I need Kkooli eggs.” He tapped something into a datapad near him. “Han might be able to hunt some down.”

“The smuggler is aboard the Executor?”

“ _ Han _ is, of course, here with Leia.”

Anakin didn’t huff because ex-Sith lords do not huff. But he made a noise that Luke narrowed his eyes at. 

“And you feel free to have him stop by  _ my _ quarters with  _ eggs _ .”

“Well, if he can find them. Do you think if he can’t, that the Admiral might know who to ask?”

Anakin stared at his offspring in disgust.

“You will  _ not _ bother the Admiral with  _ egg requisition _ . I realized that the Rebellion was loose in many terrible ways, but having the top officer in the fleet finding eggs surely was not something you did?”

Luke grinned unrepentantly. “We all did a lot of things that were surprising, Father.”

He was placing something yellow in a pot and placing it over a heating pad.

“It’s not Bantha butter but I’m sure it won’t be too different.”

“If it gets too hot you will have a problem.”

“You’re welcome to come and help, Father.”

Anakin sat back and crossed his arms. “You’re welcome to go do this in the galleys.”

The door chime sounded and Anakin waved a hand at it without looking

“My Lord, you asked for the report on refitting the Alliance ships as soon as I met with the engineers…...Commander, I apologize, I did not realize…”

Luke turned to smile at Piett. “Hello, Admiral, Leia.”

His sister stood next to Piett, sniffing the air.

“What on earth are you doing, Luke?”

“Making griddle cakes. Did you want something?”

“I was looking for you. We just finished our meeting and….. Is that burning?”

Luke moved the butter off of the heating pad with the Force. 

Anakin met Piett’s uncertain look with exasperation.

“Yes, Admiral, I would be happy to hear your assessment.”

Piett’s eyes darted to the hovering pan and to the two Skywalker offspring. “I would be very happy to report later, my Lord, if….”

“Leia, can you grab that pot? I’m trying to stir this at the same time.”

His daughter crossed her arms in a gesture exactly like his own. “I don’t cook.”

Anakin shot a glare at Piett who was now looking between Leia and his commander, and was his mouth quirking? The Admiral’s eyes met Anakin’s and he smoothed his face out immediately. Anakin could sense his internal amusement however and uncrossed his arms. 

“Piett….”

“Admiral can you grab that pot since Leia won’t?”

Piett seized the opportunity to avoid his commander’s ire and moved to grasp the pot of melted butter awkwardly.

“All right, what would you like me to do with it?”

“If you pour that really slowly into the bowl while I stir, that would be great,” Luke instructed and Piett complied.

Anakin rubbed his forehead.

“Son, the  _ Admiral _ is here to give me a rather important update on our fleet, not to help in your misguided cooking project! Isn’t that  _ correct _ , Admiral?”

Piett shot him a slightly apprehensive look over his shoulder from where he was pouring.

“Absolutely my Lord, if you would give me one moment…..”

“Luke!” exclaimed his daughter in irritation as his son’s exuberant stirring sent some flour onto Piett’s face and uniform.

“Sorry, Admiral.”

“Not at all, Commander.” Piett set the pot down and attempted to brush the flour off of his uniform.

“ _ Force _ ,” Anakin groaned, the indignity of all of this getting to him. 

“Do you have a towel?” his daughter asked coolly.

“A…..?”

“Third drawer, Leia,” his son replied and Leia found it, coming back over to Piett and reaching up to wipe the flour off of his cheek and chin. 

“Thank you, your Highness,” his Admiral replied, taking it from her and continuing to beat at his uniform. 

“If you could find the time, Piett, to get out of the galley and recall that you command this fleet….”

“Sorry my Lord, of course.”

The Admiral came around to stand before him, placing his hands behind his back. Impeccable as always. Except for the flour still present on his collar. 

Anakin dragged his eyes from that and picked up the data pad Piett had handed him. 

“So then, the larger cruisers can be retrofitted with….”

“That smells good,” commented Leia, leaning over the bowl as Luke sprinkled the pila spice in. 

“These were Aunt Beru’s griddle cakes.”

Did his son not know? Well, time to correct that. He set the pad back down and stood, startling Piett, who moved aside as Anakin strode toward his ignorant children.

“They were not your Aunt’s.”

Both of them turned as one (twins) to look at him---Luke, curious, and Leia glaring. 

“Well she always made them, I just….”

“They were your grandmother’s.”

Silence.

His son was sending waves of understanding and sympathy and…...pleasure?

His daughter was uncertain as she always was in the face of his emotional struggles. She shared a glance instead with Piett. She was sympathetic yes, but as she would be to a stranger. Anakin pressed down that regret for the millionth time. 

“Well. I’ll do my best then,” Luke replied as Anakin’s door chimed again and he waved a hand.

_ Fine. Let’s have the whole fleet in here. Perhaps they should invite Veers and Venka too. _

Solo entered with all his eye watering cockiness. 

“Look who found you the Kkooli eggs! You certainly know the right man to ask, kid,” said the Corellian with serene assurance, striding past all the others to deposit them near Luke.

He then came back out of the galley and seated himself on a sofa, long legs crossed in front of him.

“Are we having another meeting?”

Anakin’s eye twitched. 

Piett, ( _ thank you Admiral _ ) stepped in. 

“Not at all General Solo. I was just delivering a report, but I will do so later. My Lord, by your leave….”

“You can’t go yet, Admiral!” called his exasperating first born. “You have to try these first.”

“Luke,” Anakin growled, “You don’t get to give him orders. And he has a Super Star Destroyer to run….”

A polite cough.  _ Don’t you dare, Admiral, you’re supposed to help me out.  _

“Technically I’m not on duty. I just had the night shift and was finishing with the meeting this morning, so…..”

_ Traitor _ . Piett had the almighty cheek to give him a small smile.

“Then obviously you are staying and having breakfast,” his daughter interposed promptly, proprietary instincts flaring for her Admiral. 

“I already had breakfast, but those smell great kid. I could do round two.”

_ Had absolutely everyone in this room smoked spice sticks this morning? _

A sizzle sounded as Luke began ladling batter onto the pan.

“I’m not sure how long they should be cooked on each side. Hopefully this doesn’t burst into flames,” Luke declared cheerfully.

_ Oh for kriff’s sake. _

Anakin strode into the galley and seized the spatula from his not so innocent child. 

“You make yourself useful and find plates, rather than seeking to start a fire in my quarters. Did you…..” he stared down at the various griddle cakes before him. “Did you shape these like Jabba the Hutt? Is that pathetic demonstration supposed to be a TIE fighter?”

“I call the Jabba one!” called Solo.

“You will get what you get, Solo,” Anakin responded grimly as Luke brought a stack of plates over to him. “If this will get all of you  _ out of my quarters _ faster, then let’s finish this.”

He flipped them over perfectly and then pointed a finger at his son. “I know what you’re doing young one.”

Luke raised an eyebrow at him. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Father.”

“Do you have syrup?” asked Solo.

_ Did he have…… _

“Not likely,” said his daughter. “Fruit would be nice though.”

“We are  _ not… _ .. “ began Anakin furiously turning to look at his smirking child. She was doing this because she knew it was getting to him. 

“We just picked up some fresh berries from our last trade agreement,” commented Piett mildly.

_ Force damn it, Admiral, must you support her in everything? _

“Perfect,” Leia said, patting Piett on the shoulder and going to seat herself closely to the smuggler. 

Luke was watching him. “I blame you,” Anakin told him. Luke smiled and leaned against the counter. 

“Do you want me to take over again?”

“Hardly. Your skills are pathetic. Watch an expert make a TIE fighter.”


	22. Veers waits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Again cmdrtekk tosses these ideas for perspective out like grenades and my brain is exploding. So I'm giving Veers' take on Piett being summoned by Vader.   
> I have to closely follow that with Vader's take on it as well because it Will. Not. Leave. My. Brain. :) 
> 
> Angst abounds, but I gave a little comfort toward the end so we can handle it!!

Veers glared at the chronometer. It wasn’t personal, but the fact that it was there, reminding him that time was a thing he had to consider, just felt insulting at this point. Because he was still not on active duty thanks to Hoth and because the whole ship was wound tighter than coil spring artillery after the pursuit of the Millenium Falcon, he was holed up in his quarters, waiting until Piett got off duty to force more water down his friend’s throat. 

Having jumped from Captain of the Executor to Admiral of the Fleet, Piett had been handed a steep learning curve, combined with a Sith Lord who seemed to have lost the plot and was throttling officers on a daily basis. 

But now…...now the Falcon had escaped and Luke Skywalker hadn’t. Vader wasn’t giving orders and so his friend kept the fleet in orbit, straining with that slight body to keep the crew and his ship safe. 

Which meant Veers tried to keep  _ him _ safe. 

The General tried to look at his data pad once again and read the report about repairing some of the AT-ATs and the request for requisitioning new ones. 

His door chime sounded. He looked at the chronometer even though he knew perfectly well what time it was. Clearly this person did  _ not _ .

It sounded again, and Veers sighed in frustration, rising slowly with sore muscles to make his way to the door and open it to …..Ellery?

“Yes, Sergeant Major?” He hoped that wasn’t too clipped, but he was so Force damned tired. 

“Sir,” and the big man was literally  _ wringing his hands. _ The General had never seen this tough as durasteel army man behave like this. Cold started creeping up his body.

“Sir,” and….and those were  _ tears _ in his eyes. “Lord Vader has requested the Admiral sir. To his quarters. Alone.”

Hoth had nothing on how cold Veers felt in this moment. 

“ _ When _ ?” 

“He’s on his way now, sir,” the Sergeant Major told him, angrily wiping at his face. “Sorry, sir.” 

Veers looked over as his data pad pinged at him.  _ Message _ . 

He managed to make his voice work. “Thank….ahem… thank you, Ellery.”    
  


“Sir,” Ellery looked at him and drew himself up. “If you….if there’s anything I can do….after…”

“I will let you know Sergeant Major,” Veers replied, shutting down into his Iron General voice. “Thank you for alerting me.”

The door closed and Veers was left hanging onto the frame, gripping it so hard he was sure it would dent.

If you had told him a year ago, that Lord Vader would strangle  _ Piett _ , he would have scoffed. But the chase for Luke Skywalker had led to an obsession with black implications for Death Squadron and lately, absolutely no one was safe. 

The Lady was no exception and Veers was sure Piett was going to die that day when he had gone to plead with their commander not to take them into the asteroid field. 

By a miracle of timing, the Emperor had wished to communicate, but it hadn’t stopped them from losing an entire Star Destroyer and 600 men on the Executor herself. 

Veers managed to unpeel his fingers from the door frame and stagger to his desk for the waiting data pad. He sat heavily and quite suddenly the lights in his quarters dipped into blue and indigo. 

He knew the Lady’s colors fairly well now though she rarely displayed them to him. She was frightened and sad. 

_ Force damn it.  _ He didn’t talk to the ship, but…..

“Lady? I feel that way too….” He pondered. No one could stop a powerful Sith Lord. What about a 19 km warship? He had personally seen her defend Piett before. Would she do it against the Commander of the fleet?  _ Could _ she?

He took a breath and tapped the blinking message. Piett’s familiar tenor tones filled his room, but there was an uncertainty and raggedness to his voice that cut Veers to the heart.

_ Max, _

_ He’s summoned me. I’m fairly certain this is about the Falcon. We both know I’ve had borrowed time since that. I...I don’t have much time, so….Max you’re that friend who’s closer than a brother. Thank you for that. Do your best to protect our crew. The Lady….I don’t know what to say there. I wish we could ask her about Lord Vader. A mirthless laugh. _

_ Tell my mother it was in the line of duty would you? _

_ Thank you for…..for everything. _

Veers bent over and tried to breathe. His best friend. A good man. It was impossible not to picture his lifeless body, throat bruised and eyes wide. He put his face in his hands. If he didn’t have a crew to think of he would get his blaster right now and face down a Sith Lord. He had no illusions about his chances, but he would have tried. 

His heart leapt into his throat when his data pad chimed again. Would it be Ellery….?

He was a General. His hands never shook. But they were undeniably doing so now as he tapped the screen. 

_ Lord Vader requested him…..personal assignment? _

Veers made it to the fresher before he was ill. 

May the Sith Lord burn in all nine levels of hell---he was being made to retrieve his friend’s body. 

_ No. Kriff damn it all forever. _ His rage burned white hot and he retrieved his service blaster, to strap it on his hip. They had always done things together. They would do this too. He put on his cap and gloves. He would do this right. 

He walked down the corridors of the Executor with holy purpose. He was barely aware of other crew members scrambling to get out of his way. He would die today too. But it would be with his blaster fired and next to his friend. It was not rational. He didn’t care. If Vader was determined to destroy Death Squadron he could do it without Veers too. 

He paused before the grey doors composing himself for what he was about to see. They hissed open as he had thought they would without him needing to press the panel. 

“You requested me, my Lord?” And he looked up and at Vader……. _ and Piett _ . Piett who was in the process of ------ _ shaking the Sith Lord’s hand _ ? The Admiral looked as though he had been pushed far beyond endurance (because he had) but he was  _ alive _ . 

Vader’s helmet inclined slightly and Veers knew he was taking in the blaster on his hip. 

_ He knows what I came here to do _ .

But Vader merely spoke to him. 

“Yes, General. Your orders are to escort Admiral Piett to his quarters and make sure he eats something. And Admiral, I do not want to see you on the bridge for at least 12 hours.”

Veers found himself moving forward automatically to stand by Piett and salute their commander. Vader considered them both for a moment before turning his back and then they were out in the corridors.

“What was that about?” Veers asked, feeling absolutely weak, but needing to hold it together for the friend who looked as though he would faint any moment. “I was terrified I was summoned to get your body.”

“I’m not sure I can tell you yet, Max” Piett answered, and Veers got an arm around him when it became clear that the Admiral really didn’t have any stamina left to speak of. “But….I’m hopeful.”

They entered the lift and Veers pushed the button for his deck. “Hopeful for what?”

“That this nightmare might be over,” Piett answered and swore as he trembled. “I can’t stop. Kriff, when I was sure he was going to kill me I managed to be steady.”

“Reaction,” said Veers and it helped him to steady out to focus on the Admiral. “Also I’m going to guess, no blood sugar to speak of. It’s been awhile since I had an order I felt so thrilled about.”

Piett gave him a look, but didn’t argue when they entered Veers’ quarters. 

“Do you need help with the uniform bits?” he asked, stabbing a galley order into his pad. 

“I’ll manage,” Piett said, working off his boots and slowly shrugging out of his jacket while Veers grabbed some waters and handed one to Piett.

“Thank you.” He drank thirstily which was a happy change from the last few days where the General had to twist his arm. 

He rose to get the food the service droid brought and set it before his friend. He’d chosen easy and simple things, given that Piett hadn’t eaten in so long and sat back in his chair slowly feeling his muscles unwind as he watched the Admiral pick around and eat what appealed. 

Then Piett sat back and they regarded each other. 

“The first thing he said was ‘I’m not going to kill you, Admiral’,” Piett told him without preamble. “I thought I might faint then and disgrace myself.” 

“Did he happen to mention why he’s been so intent on destroying this fleet?” the General asked dryly. 

“In a way,” Piett said and Veers raised his eyebrows. “Max…..I think he will tell you. I do. But it’s really not mine and I think I’ve reached my limit of well….everything.”

Veers relented. It wasn’t Piett’s fault. He rose to retrieve his spare pillows and blankets that he kept for just this purpose. 

“I’m quite happy for you to have the bed, Firmus,” the General told him. 

Piett lifted tired eyes that were sunk into dark wells. “Thanks Max, but I don’t think I could get off of this sofa if I tried. This is great.”

Veers helped him arrange things. Then moved to place the galley tray in the recycler. When he turned back, Piett was already asleep. 

After the last several hours he’d had, the General knew sleep wouldn’t be coming soon. He settled himself in his armchair with his datapad. He had been given another opportunity by Fate to look out for his friend. He was not taking that for granted. He would keep watch.

He glanced at the chronometer. 12 hours. He would keep the Admiral safe for that long. Then they could think about the next 12. 


	23. What is broken can be rebuilt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As promised, this is Vader's perspective on acquiring his son and the subsequent news for Piett. Thanks again cmdrtekk for these ideas!
> 
> And yes, I shall endeavor something lighter next so we can all breathe. :)

His son. His  _ son _ was here. Vader stood before the bacta tank watching his son’s unconscious form bobbing gently in the liquid. Behind him the med droids and human staff worked together to prepare a new hand for Luke.

Because.

Because his  _ father _ had cut it off……

The bruising on Luke’s face was looking better. He was almost peaceful. A far cry from his contorted expression of agony on the gantry. 

_ That’s not true! That’s impossible! _

The anguished horror bleeding through that. At his father. Force help him, what was he doing? Vader put a hand on the glass. 

Luke, who he could sense  _ longed _ for his father, Luke had chosen to die rather than join a man such as his father was revealed to be. 

For the first time in 23 year, Anakin Skywalker considered himself. Not Lord Vader, Anakin. The man who had a son with Padme’. The son here and alive.

_ Sidious said I killed her. She was buried heavy with child…… _

Unless she wasn’t. 

Betrayal at the hands of both his masters then. Sidious had lied about her death. Obi-Wan had lied about Luke. 

And now he had a choice. But Anakin knew that really it wasn’t a choice. Their child lived. He would continue to live

_ I’ll never join you! _

What world would he live in? A galaxy ruled by corrupt Sith Lords? Or one that Padme’ would have been proud of?

And he felt as though a large crack ran right through him, letting in a little light. He must make plans. He needed things in place before Luke woke. 

Vader moved out into the corridor and toward his quarters. He could feel the fear like an entrenched illness throughout the ship. The Lady wasn’t speaking to him----not after the asteroid field. 

<I’m  _ sorry _ , Lady.>

Nothing. 

Well. He could not fix everything over night. He entered his quarters and paced. Sidioius could not know that he had Luke here. Only a few people knew that Luke was on board. The rest had assumed that he escaped with the Falcon.  _ How _ had that damn ship slipped away again, anyway? Piett had personally seen to it and Vader knew his Admiral. He would not have said the hyperdrive was altered unless it was. Something had to have happened…..

Piett. He needed to bring him in on this. He was one who knew about Skywalker’s presence, along with Veers and the medical crew. 

That is if he hadn’t completely destroyed the trust he had been building with his men. He had felt Piett’s growing dread, though the Admiral was more competent than most at keeping his emotions tightly in check around Vader. 

He reflected on his actions and behavior over the last year. He had not really cared what anyone else thought as he grew increasingly obsessed with acquiring his son. But, as he tried to step back more objectively, he could see that his senior officers had become increasingly reserved and careful. They had tried, cautiously, to keep him from wasting men and resources.

Vader considered this. He had been building Death Squadron for years now, putting in place the crew and officers he knew were loyal to him. Had he thrown it all away? 

He recalled suddenly his Admiral’s uncharacteristic spike of fear as the Falcon jumped away. 

_ Piett…..Piett had been sure people were going to die. And he had been preparing himself to stand in the way….. _

Force. 

In his single mindedness to make sure Luke lived, that moment had slipped down in his memory. 

It came roaring back now and Vader realized that for two days, he had not given orders. He reached out with the Force------they were still in orbit over Bespin. Piett clearly wasn’t sure what to do anymore. Kriff. 

He had to tell him. He owed the man that and much more. He pressed the comm to the bridge and requested the Admiral. 

How could he convince Piett to join him? Would he even want to? Vader had put his Lady in harm’s way, but Piett hadn’t had the option of not speaking to him the way she did. He suddenly realized how brave the Admiral had been to question his decision to go into the asteroid field, given the recent death of his predecessor. 

He decided that the best thing to do was lay out the facts before his Admiral and accept his decision. He would protect Luke alone if he had to, but he would not condemn the man for wanting nothing to do with Vader at this point. 

He felt Piett’s presence approaching and placed a hand on the bulkhead, battered by the strength of emotion there. 

_ I’m going to die.  _

He believed it so strongly that Vader struggled to combat the feeling. 

_ My men. This ship. Veers, I’m sorry. _

Vader had never dealt with such unguarded emotion from the man. 

_ Admiral…...I’m so sorry. _

He waved the doors open and Piett came into the room, head high. Vader didn’t need to see him to know that he was facing his supposed death with the straight back he always had in battle. 

“I did not call you here to kill you, Admiral,” he told him and felt Piett stagger. He gave him a moment to right himself.

“Thank you, my Lord,” the Admiral responded, clearly on autopilot.

Vader hated himself for that. “You should not thank me for that, Piett,” he snapped.  _ Force, _ that his most faithful officer felt the need to give him gratitude that his neck wasn’t being broken for doing…..his job? The job he’d had for two days? Thrust from Captain to Admiral and doing rather well given the immense pressure upon him. Vader turned around.

He looked awful. 

_ My fault. I’m sorry Piett. _

“You are aware, I believe, that we have apprehended Skywalker?”

“Yes, my Lord.” Piett’s body was going to betray him at any moment. Vader could feel his weakness, though admirably hidden. The man was nothing if not stubborn. 

“He…..was injured. The medics are with him now. As he will be with us for some time, I felt you should know…..the situation.”

Piett was puzzled and exhausted, but Vader had started and he needed to see this through. Hopefully this didn’t end with him having to take the Admiral to sickbay. Henley would never let him hear the end of it. 

“My Lord?” 

“I know you have wondered at the focus that I have had on capturing him. You have a right to know who he is, because I must ask you to------make a choice.”

And Piett’s emotions flared again.  _ I could die _ . Vader felt him willing his body to work and marvelled again at the steel in this man. 

“Very well, my Lord.” 

Given the way he could feel Piett’s strength draining, Vader moved to stand before him for the hardest part. Piett tilted his head, and Vader was slightly amused as he felt the Admirals’ indignation at the height difference being so clearly put before him. 

“Luke Skywalker is my son.”

Piett was reeling mentally and then he was doing so physically as Vader had suspected he might. He got a firm grip on the Admiral and steered him carefully to the chair closest to them. Piett had no filter on his thoughts at the moment---

_ He anticipated this. He probably had, kriffing Sith Lords and their dramatic news. _

Vader snorted a laugh at this thought, reminded again why he had picked Piett to command his fleet. The man was  _ irritated _ . He was afraid he could die, but he could still overcome that fear to be irritated at his Sith Lord commander. 

Vader did a swift assessment of Piett through the Force. Henley would be  _ furious _ . It was a miracle Piett was conscious, given that he was starving and dehydrated, not to mention the mental trauma the man had gone through. 

“When was the last time you ate something, Admiral?”

_ Shock. _

“My...my Lord?”

“When. Did. You. Eat?” Vader asked slowly. It was still somewhat amusing to feel the reaction to his caring about this. 

“I’m….not quite sure, my Lord.”

“Hm.” Well perhaps Vader could do something in a small way to making this right. He turned to tap a brief message to Veers. If he was lucky they could bypass Henley.

“My Lord, I apologize if this seems impertinent, but I want to be clear. Did you indeed just tell me that Luke Skywalker is your son?”

_ Yes, that would be hard to believe _ . 

“I did, Admiral.”

Piett digested this and Vader pressed on. 

“I would like to tell you more Admiral. Do pay attention.”

“Yes, my Lord.”  _ More?! _

“Many years ago I was a Jedi, known to others as Anakin Skywalker….

_ Kriffing hell. He felt Piett’s reaction and his overwrought mind and body started to fail…. _

….you may not faint on me now, Piett!”

“Of course not, my Lord,” Piett managed, taking deep breaths and rallying. 

_ Please don’t make me explain to Henley that I almost killed the best Admiral this fleet has ever had.  _

“I was married and my wife and I were expecting. It was…..” he stopped and felt Piett’s understanding and sympathy bleed through. 

“My wife…..died, and I had thought the child was lost with her. I found out three years ago that I had been lied to. I was deeply betrayed by both my former and my current masters.”

“Three years ago,” Piett whispered, his struggling brain putting things together slowly. “Yavin. The Death Star.”

“Yes. I discovered in my search for the pilot, just who he was.”

_ He felt it when Piett began to put some things together.  _

“You… you said your current master…”

“The Emperor lied to me as well.”

Piett clearly did not want to go down this line of thought. 

“The Emperor is my master and a Sith Lord as I think you are realizing, Admiral.

_ Stay with me Piett.  _

“I have had many different…. _ revelations _ recently, Piett. Now is not the time to discuss all of them. The crucial thing comes down to this.”

_ Please hear me. If not for my sake, for the sake of my son.  _

“ I am not a good man. But I now have a son in my life. I have this Squadron and the Lady. A possibility for a different life. What I do not wish for, is my son to fall to the Dark side which is the desire that my Master has for him.”

Piett blinked.  _ The Emperor wanted Skywalker? Wanted to take him from his father a second time? _

_ Indeed _ .

“I wish to save my son, Admiral. And in order to do that, I  _ must _ renounce Palpatine. He is evil and power mad and for many years I have been content to do his bidding. I will do so no more.”

Piett was processing this incredulously. 

Vader was watching him. “This cannot be achieved overnight of course. As said, I am not a good man, Piett. But you are. I would very much appreciate your support and….advice in this endeavor. This galaxy is under a dark rule. My son would see that change. Thus, I am going to do my best to change it. My best includes you, Admiral, at the helm of this Squadron.”

_ After everything I’ve put you through, I know how much I’m asking. Please give me the opportunity to make this right for us all.  _

He felt Piett come to a crucial point in his thought process.

“Who would take the throne, my Lord?”

“I would gladly hand it to Luke. I have no desire for it. However, it is also a possibility, Piett, that we may need to approach the Rebellion leaders at some point.” 

_ The Rebellion? For help? _ But Vader felt Piett come to a conclusion in his mind, because Piett was that good a man, and the Admiral struggled stubbornly to his feet. 

Vader was half ready to catch him again. 

“I will help you, my Lord.”

_ Relief. Gratitude. I do not deserve you. Nor my son. Nor this chance. Force help us.  _

He held out a hand. “Thank you, Admiral.” 

He sensed Veers approaching and there was  _ another _ angle he should have considered. 

_ I’m going to kill him or die trying. You Sith bastard. My best friend. He didn’t deserve this.  _

Because of course.

Of coure the General would assume he was being summoned to deal with Piett’s body. He had driven his men this far, that both of them had firmly believed they would die today. He had so much to repair, to undo. 

He hoped Veers didn’t start by firing. He wasn’t quite ready to tell the General what he had told Piett. 

The doors hissed open behind Piett as Vader clasped his hand and he felt Veers stagger mentally from the sight of his friend alive. 

He took in the blaster at the General’s hip and appreciated the courage in Veers.

_ I’m sorry to you too, General.  _

He recovered incredibly well. 

“You requested me, my Lord?”

“Yes, General. Your orders are to escort Admiral Piett to his quarters and make sure he eats something. And Admiral, I do not want to see you on the bridge for at least 12 hours.”

Both men were stunned, but their military training had them saluting him. 

_ It will take time, gentlemen. But I intend to earn your trust back. _

He turned away before the waves of relief from both of them swamped him. 

<Lady? He asked as the doors hissed shut. I’m going to make it right. You have my permission to stop me with any force necessary if I ever threaten your Admiral.>

<I do not need your permission for it, Dark one.>

<He sent her his amusement. Glad we’re on the same page then.>

<It is past time we were, she said primly.>


	24. A day in the life of the Lady

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just drabbling around really. This hit me and so I relaxed this evening by writing it. Of course it then led me to consider an R2--Lady team up.....
> 
> ....at some point. I have to be in the right mood. ;) 
> 
> Enjoy!

<She marks the passage of cycles differently than the humans. Day and night have no meaning for her, though the Dark one has shown her how the humans think of these passages of time. She marks time in its pure form. It is time. That is all. Within it, many different things can be accomplished, but it is the universal. The constant.>

<Morning, noon, and night. Bridge shifts. Deck shifts. These are ways the humans name the time. Her Admiral always tells her ‘good morning’. Even if it is not, technically, a good morning. He says this even if he has not slept well. Or if she needs some form of repair. Or if he hasn’t slept at all and is coming from the night shift on the bridge.>

<Translation---manners. She observes other humans do this as well. They say good morning even if it is not. It seems to be an expected form of communication.>

<Of course, many mornings are objectively good mornings. When she is running optimally and fast through bright star systems. When the humans speak of her in praise.>

_ That’s our Lady, says Sergeant Major Ellery. Most beautiful girl in the galaxy.  _

_ Indeed, says the General, sipping his caf. She knows all his favorite spots to find caf. She knows he likes it slightly hotter than the rest of her humans, so she makes sure to give him two extra degrees of heat.  _

It is a good morning when her Admiral has time to prowl around the bridge without haste, hands behind his back and calmly speaking to his officers. He always goes right to the front after he has done this round, and places a hand on her bulkhead in greeting. 

_ Running smoothly then, Lady, he says. _

_ She flicks a yellow light at him on the data pad that he is holding. _

_ He smiles. He is content.  _

The Dark one does not bother greeting her with time when he visits the fleet. 

<Hello Lady, he always says.>

<Dark one. I have a query. She saves queries for the Dark one. He is the only one who can answer some of her questions. Her Admiral has become very skilled with her meanings. But he will never be able to speak to her like the Dark one.>

<The Dark one smiles. Go on, Lady, he says.>

<How did you know to speak to me?>

He pauses and considers.

<Can you clarify a bit more, Lady?>

<The moment you stepped on my bridge that very first time, you knew that you could speak to me. How did you know?>

  
  


<That….is a very good question, Lady. I have...always been good with machines. I have understood them on deeper levels. I...created some.>

<The blue one?>

<No, he smiles. Artoo was already created. I made C-3PO however.>

<She sent him her distaste.  _ Why _ ?>

<The Dark one laughed. He was….is a companion of sorts. He is a protocol droid.>

<She does not care for the protocol droid. She likes the blue one. I have spoken to the blue one she tells him.>

<Oh  _ Force _ .  _ How _ ? Asks the Dark one. The Admiral doesn’t want him here, Lady, and with good reason!>

<He flies with your progeny sometimes to come here.>

<I’ll speak to Luke about  _ that _ , he says firmly.>

<She returns to the original question. Can others who use the energy as you do, speak to me?>

<His attention is keen. If you wish it, Lady, he says carefully, I suppose. Where is this going?>

<I may wish to speak with one of your progeny soon.>

<She felt his surprise. Oh yes? Which one?>

<Your daughter. But she will need to learn from you, Dark one. Her power is not as clear as yours.>

He smiled. <When you are ready Lady, I can start teaching her.>

****

<She has her routines. The humans call them that. She starts the time cycle with the Admiral’s alarm. He does not sleep well, her Admiral, so occasionally, she will allow the alarm to….delay. But if she does so, she has the water for his tea ready to make up the minutes.>

<She runs her scans of all systems every 15 minutes. There are individuals that she has the location of at all times. The princess. Captain Kelly. The Loyal one, who has his routines as well. At the mid-cycle time one of these routines is to check with her on the status of the Admiral. He is usually to be found in the large bay at that time. He will look up to one of her many cameras. If all is well she does nothing. If she needs the Loyal one to check, she will blink one of the green bay lights.>

_ <There had been a time, a dark time, when she had done it daily. When the Dark one was not operating optimally in the pursuit of his progeny. When she had wondered if she would have to choose between her loyalty--friendship--alliance with the Dark one and her Admiral, her plasma core.  _

_ But the coming of his son had changed all things for the better. She did not have to choose. The General did not have to go to the bridge daily.> _

<She shows the Admiral the mess hall on his data pad at the mid cycle. He does not often go then. She allows this. He has tea. She will monitor. Sometimes he moves too slowly or speaks with his battle voice when there is no battle. Then she will flash the mess hall at him more strenuously.>

_ Lady….he sighs. I don’t have time today. _

_ You do. She flashes the picture _

_ Are you saying I’m being short with the crew? _ __   
  


_ Yes. _

_ Oh very well. Captain Kelly! You have the bridge. _

_ Aye sir.  _

_ When he is in the lift on the way back, he sighs and looks up as she flashes the lights at him.  _

_ Yes, you were right, I feel better. Happy now? _

_ Yes. She gives him her yellow happy color.  _

_ Verging dangerously on mother hen there, Lady he says. But he smiles and shakes his head. Translation---he is not really unhappy.  _

<Her late cycle--evening--the humans say, is focused on all her critical workings since there is a smaller crew on duty at that time. She is very thorough in her checks--engines, weapons, shields, plasma core, life support.>

<Then a check of her particular humans. Her Admiral is often found either with the General, the princess, or occasionally, the Dark one if he is aboard. This pleases her. She is not alone in watching his refueling.>

<He and the General usually talk, loose and relaxed in a way they are not during the day cycle.>

<The Dark one plays dejarik with her Admiral and cheats 36% of the time. She keeps track. The Dark one always denies it and the Admiral is always exasperated. Yet they continue to play. The Dark one explains that this is a symbol of friendship.>

<Cheating? She asks. Ah…..not exactly, Lady, he replies. Understanding…..weaknesses. Teasing.>

<She is still learning teasing, but the General has been an informative teacher.>

<She knows she was successful because the princess and the Admiral frequently use porg/Madine to cheer each other up on difficult cycles.>

_ The princess finds him in their spot in the Alliance lounge, denying the headache that is battering at the gates. _

_ The General gave me to understand that negotiating our latest food supply was rough, she tells him, handing him a mug of hot cocoa and seating herself next to him, sipping her own.  _

_ Thank you my dear, he says gratefully, inhaling the scent before drinking. Yes. Rather…..difficult. They felt that perhaps an Imperial officer with his cushy background and complete lack of understanding for hardship, wasn’t the best to send to discuss this with them.  _

_ Please tell me they didn’t say that to your face.  _

_ Oh no. Lots of loaded implications and indirect remarks for about four hours. The Admiral pinches the bridge of his nose. This can mean a headache. The princess is prepared. _

_ Pills for that, she says, handing them over and he smiles at her, taking them.  _

_ Shall I come next time? She asks tucking her feet up under her as the Admiral unlatches his tunic and finally leans back into the sofa. _

_ General Madine thought that they would respond best to me, he tells her. _

_ Did he now? The princess replies acidicly. Well, he was…..mistaken. _

_ Mmm.  _

_ I think you more than deserve the tidbit that the General shared with me today, dear Admiral, she tells him.  _

_ The Admiral looks at her curiously. _

_ Do you think you might ask the Lady to show us….? _

_ Veers shared this? He asks dubiously. _

_ Apparently, said the princess, excitement dancing in her eyes, there was more than just a porg-Madine in that meeting. _

_ Her Admiral is interested. Lady? He asks. And she puts on a show, expanding on the version she showed to the General.  _

_ The princess manages (just) not to spill her cocoa and her Admiral laughs until he is pleasantly tired.  _

<The Lady senses an alliance might be made with the Dark one’s daughter. She will consider this some more.>

<She sends a holo image to the General’s data pad of the scene in the lounge.>

<He is still startled by her. She does not interact directly with him very often. But he recovers quickly this time and grins up at her cameras. Well, I’m glad to see that the princess shared that. And I see you added some new images, Lady. Monkey-lizard Madine. Genius.>

<He has approved. She is glad. Perhaps the next time the Dark one visits she will share these new images with him. >


	25. Luke meets Piett

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is for guepard54 who requested a Luke meets Piett fic. I will be doing a two part for it, so this is Luke's perspective and I'll post Piett's soon.   
> I realize this has been done by many others, but here is my humble contribution in my own AU.  
> Thank you guepard54!
> 
> Enjoy!

Well he wasn’t dead. 

This was the first thought Luke had as he returned to consciousness. He had fallen…..He was sure he was going to keep falling all the way to the gas planet below him. But he hadn’t. Why?

He reached out tentatively with the Force and was immediately met with a returning presence---dark yet concerned. 

Vader. 

Luke’s eyes snapped open. He was in an unfamiliar room--not a sickbay. Dark greys and blacks dominated---Imperial then. He reached to his surroundings…..a ship. He was on board a ship and his…. _ Father _ was present which meant that he must be aboard the Executor. 

But he was not in a cell. 

He raised himself slowly to a sitting position. He had been in bacta--he felt too good not to have been, given the battering he’d taken. He raised his hand to touch the side of his face that had been so beaten….

...his hand. His hand was there, working like a, well, a hand. He looked more closely and could just see the thin line that connected the prosthetic to his arm. It was skillfully done. He almost didn’t notice the tiny difference in response time between the left and the right hand. 

He was in a private room, he’d been given top of the line medical care…..and Vader was coming.

Luke felt him approaching and he braced himself. Merely because the methods were more pleasant this time did not oblige him to suddenly accept his Father’s ‘offer’. 

And then Darth Vader was there---looming in the entrance. 

Luke could feel a confusing jumble of emotions through the Force--not what he had expected or experienced from the Sith Lord before. 

_ Regret, Apprehension, Guilt…….Love? _

Luke glared at him. “My answer hasn’t changed. I will never turn to the Dark Side, Father.”

He felt Vader jerk in the Force at the title. 

“You shouldn’t have gone to all this trouble when you're just going to have to kill me.”

“You…..have accepted the truth then, my Son?”

“I have accepted the truth that you were once Anakin Skywalker, a Jedi Knight, and a good man. The Force is rather clear on that---what is the use in denying it?”   
  


Silence. Vader got his emotions under control. 

“I…...am no longer Anakin. That name has no meaning anymore.”

_ Lies _ , whispered the Force. 

“Fine,” Luke said. “Why am I here? I’ve told you, I WILL NOT….”

“I am no longer asking that of you.”

If Luke had been hit directly by his X-wing, he couldn’t have been more thrown. 

“I don’t…..”

“I would like to speak with you, young one and explain a great many things. Get dressed and join me out in my quarters.”

He swept out.

_ Young one? His quarters??? _

Luke rose, and found a set of black clothing hanging over the back of the single chair in the room, complete with boots, all his size. 

Was he dying? Maybe he was hallucinating. 

_ You are neither, Luke _ , said his Father in his mind. _ Search the Force. You are here, this is happening and I am growing impatient.  _

Well  _ that _ he could feel. 

He finished dressing quickly and joined his…. _ Father… _ ..kriff that was still so utterly bizarre out in his spartan quarters. 

Vader turned to look at him for a long while. 

“You have your….mother’s height I’m afraid,” he said at last.

_ His mother…..Force _ . Luke felt like he had fallen into a black hole. How far down would he go?

“Luke,” said his Father.

And again, Luke felt his--  _ love, hope--- _ projecting strongly. 

“I…. must tell you why I did not find you sooner.”

Luke sat down. He had a feeling this would take a while. 

  
  


****

Few people knew that Luke was on board his Father’s ship. Thus, he only ventured from his Father’s quarters when accompanied by his Father who could disguise his presence.

_ I will teach you to make yourself unnoticeable, young one. _

Luke was still marvelling, both that he had a Father to teach him, and that he himself was willing to learn. 

After several days of meditating in his Father’s quarters or exploring the vast ship with the Sith Lord, Vader informed him that it was time to meet the Admiral. 

His Father felt his apprehension. 

“You have nothing to fear from Admiral Piett, my son. He is the most loyal officer on this ship. Further, he knows who you are already.”

“Are you certain you can trust him?” Luke asked, his experiences with everything Imperial causing him to doubt. 

“I would, and have, entrusted Admiral Piett with my life,” responded his Father and Luke felt more than respect there.  _ Regard then? _ His Father cared on some level about this man. For that reason alone he was curious. 

“Where are we going?” Luke asked, realizing that they were heading down a corridor he hadn’t been to yet. 

“We are going to the hangar bay, my son. As Dr. Henley would say, this is a  _ clandestine _ meeting and I wish to keep it that way.”

“Who is Dr. Henley?” 

His Father tilted his helmet at him. “ _ That _ , young one is a question for another time. Part of me hopes you never have to meet him.”

Luke was puzzled but as his Father was projecting both feelings of irritation and grudging respect, he let it lie. 

They entered a vast hangar bay and Luke realized that his Father’s TIE advanced was sitting there, among several other ships, including……

“My X-wing!”

“Certainly my son. How else are you to rejoin the Rebel fleet?”

_ The what now? _

“You...you’re letting me….”

“In a moment son. This is my private hangar bay, one of the smaller ones on board the Lady.”

Two thoughts smacked Luke’s brain: first-- _ smaller _ one? And second---

“The Lady?”

“The crew refer to her that way,” came a new voice behind them and Luke turned. 

So this was The Admiral. His Father’s Admiral. He could freely admit that the man was not at all who he had been expecting. 

Slight frame, possibly shorter than Luke, with the straight spine and posture that declared command. He was likely in his mid-forties, with mild hazel eyes and a pleasant demeanor. But there was something in his manner and his face that had Luke straightening his own posture out of respect. 

He felt his Father’s amusement at this action, and then his minor irritation, because…..?

“I was under the impression, Admiral, that I gave you an order to  _ rest _ .”

“Yes, my Lord. However, we are slightly….. _ short _ on senior bridge crew at the moment so it was necessary for me to take a double shift.”

And reaching out tentatively in the Force, Luke could feel the man’s exhaustion. But it was deeper than mere double shifts. He had been under tremendous strain….

And Luke had the breathtaking realization that much of that strain had come from hunting one Luke Skywalker. 

His Father was also projecting…. _ regret? _ ....once more. 

“When we have finished this discussion, Piett, I will be taking command of the bridge and  _ you _ will be off duty.”

“My Lord…..” the Admiral began, eyes darting to Luke.

“Off. Duty.” And Vader punctuated each word with a finger pointed at Piett’s face. 

And in a strange way this threatening gesture seemed to put the man at ease.

“Very well, my Lord.”

Vader made a strange sound through his vocoder --a sigh?--- and then gestured toward a gleaming lambda shuttle. 

“Shall we?” he said and swept that way. Luke met the Admiral’s eyes and found amused resignation there.

“After you, Commander,” he said, gesturing with a gloved hand. 

They entered the shuttle and Vader indicated that the other two should sit. 

“Lady,” he said addressing the air, “ensure that this conversation remains confidential.”

Luke felt…..something ripple through him and looked curiously at his Father.    
  


“You felt that too, I take it?” Vader asked.

“Yes, what…?”

“That is also a question for another time.”

Luke suddenly felt fierce protectiveness and realized it was coming from the Admiral, though he had remarkable discipline over his countenance. 

“Now,” said his Father, “Admiral Piett, my son, Luke Skywalker. Luke, Admiral Firmus Piett.”

And Luke was once again subject to the Admiral’s keen hazel gaze. 

“How do you do, Admiral?” Luke said and held out his hand. A corner of the man’s mouth twitched slightly but he did not hesitate to grasp Luke’s outstretched hand. 

“Rather better now that you’re aboard, Commander,” Piett responded. 

“Luke, the Admiral is aware of our intentions going forward from this meeting. He has agreed to help us in overthrowing the Emperor and ending this conflict.”

_ Had he now? _ Luke could feel the Admiral’s apprehension, but also his resolve. This was not a man in it for personal advancement. He had everything to lose and he knew it. 

“Thank you Admiral, I am aware of the huge risk to you in this endeavor,” Luke told him.

“As am I commander, but that can be said for us all. This will take some time.”

“Indeed,” rumbled his Father. “So, my son, it is imperative that you ‘escape’ in the next few days, before the Emperor demands that I bring you to him.”

Luke blanched. 

“The Admiral will assist you primarily from this point as I must not be seen to be ….preoccupied.” Piett shifted slightly at this.

“You will be a  _ technician _ in this bay, and you will work on your own ship to prepare it for your escape. The Lady is capable of dealing with any security footage. You will sleep in here.”

Luke’s head was whirling with the speed of these plans. 

“Will I….?” he stopped feeling suddenly foolish and 6 years old.  _ Will I see you again? _ He wanted to ask his Father. 

Vader inclined his helmet knowingly. 

“I will find a way to see you before you leave, young one.”

Luke felt Piett’s start at the affectionate title, though he recovered well. 

“Admiral, if you would supply him” Vader said, preparing to leave the shuttle.

“Yes my Lord.” 

Piett rose and turned to Luke.

“And, Piett.”

If Luke didn’t know better he would say his Father was slightly enjoying making his Admiral whip his attention back to his commander.

“Off. Duty.”

Piett coughed lightly. “Of, of course, my Lord.” 

And Vader left. They studied each other for a moment.

“You’re younger than I thought you’d be,” commented the Admiral at last. 

“So are you,” returned Luked easily, and Piett barked a laugh. It changed his face, erasing his stern weariness, and Luke found himself liking the Admiral. 

“Yes, well, usually one doesn’t jump from Captain to Admiral, Commander.”   
  


Luke was impressed. “How in the galaxies….?”

And the Admiral’s emotions surged into deep sadness. 

“Another time, Skywalker.”

“Sorry,” Luke said. The Admiral took a deep breath and achieved impressive control over his emotions. 

“Not your fault, Commander. Now, there is a tech uniform over here. Wear the cap, it helps keep you looking just like all the others.”

There was a definite undertone of mocking amusement there….

“Have you heard the Rebellion jokes then, Admiral?” Luke asked him, taking up the uniform. 

Piett gave him a level gaze. “I’m aware that the Imperial forces are seen as faceless entities, yes. But they are not that way to me, or any other commander. I hope you know that, Skywalker. I may be helping you and your Father, but I have a duty and a commitment to my men as well. They are not just cannon fodder for the Emperor  _ or _ your Rebellion.”

Luke’s respect for his Father’s Admiral went up several more notches. He was not a man doing this out of frustrated bitterness or abject hatred. No, he had principle. Honor. 

_ Promoted from Captain to Admiral…..high regard from his Father indeed. _

“I appreciate that, sir,” Luke told him, “and I’ll bear that in mind as we go forward.”

“Thank you,” said Piett simply.

****

Over the next few days Luke learned numerous things about the Executor and her crew.

-The Lady was a special ship. He didn’t know why he knew this, but he just  _ felt _ it. 

-Piett had been the Admiral of the fleet for two days before Luke was captured. He had been promoted during the Battle of Hoth and he would not say more about it. 

-General Veers was much taller than Luke had anticipated, and much more what he had expected Piett to look like. He was also clearly a close friend to the Admiral.

-Veers knew who he was, but not that he was Vader’s son. (He’d asked Piett later) He had come into the bay at one point, greeted Piett and walked over to the X-wing while Luke refitted the left engine thruster. “Try anything Skywalker,” the General had muttered softly “and you’ll eat my blaster.”

Luke had looked up calmly into steel grey eyes. “I’m not sure why Lord Vader is letting you go or why he gave the Admiral this assignment personally, but touch him and I’ll space you.”

Luke felt almost physical waves in the Force from the General’s fierce protective stance over his friend.

“I’ll bear that in mind, General,” Luke said neutrally. Veers nodded once and left. 

_ Kriff that man was intimidating. _

-The Executor was a beautiful ship. Luke had always adored spaceships, but the Lady was a thing of exquisite beauty. He had voiced this to Piett as they ate dinner one evening in the lambda (and the Admiral hadn’t been asked to do that and again Luke marvelled that Darth Vader had such a man as his second in command) and the Admiral’s pleased pride had burst over Luke like sun through the clouds.

“She is indeed. Thank you Commander.” 

-His Father was feared by the crew, but they appreciated that he fought with his men and that he was an exceedingly competent leader. 

Luke tucked all this away to consider at a later time.

*****

_ Luke _ . His Father touched his mind.

_ It is time, my son. _

And how was it possible that Luke felt pangs of regret at leaving the Imperial flagship….?

He moved out of the lambda to see his Father standing in front of several unconscious technicians whom Luke had worked near for the last few days.

“What….?”

“It lends credibility to your ‘escape’, Commander,” said Piett, coming to stand beside him. "They are unharmed I assure you."

“Good luck,” the Admiral said, holding out his hand and Luke grasped it warmly. 

“And you sir. Thank you for your hospitality.”

Piett smiled. “I hope to see you again someday.”

Luke turned to his Father.

“Will I be able to…..talk to you?”

Vader radiated amusement. “Would you like that?”

“Yes. I would.”

His Father buried it swiftly, but he was pleased.

“Then we will continue to do so, my son. The Force be with you.”

“And you Father,” and Luke grasped his arm, looking keenly into his mask. 

Then he was swinging into his X-wing and the Lady dwindled into the stars. 


	26. Piett meets Luke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's the companion piece from Piett's perspective. Again, he's very easy to talk to and this became longer than I thought because Luke really wanted to chat with him. :) 
> 
> Thank you for reading! :)

Piett managed to stifle yet another yawn. Kriff, at this rate the bridge crew were going to think he had some secret sorrow, the way his eyes were watering from the yawning. 

Which. 

He had plenty of things to genuinely grieve, but when he would get that time was anyone’s guess. With the loss of over 600 crew after the asteroid field, Piett had spread his Senior officers thin, working on filling in gaps and training men for new positions. Which had even affected the bridge roster. 

Piett thus found himself pulling a double shift, giving Captain Kelly a breather. He would need to look over the list of commanders, and consider who he might start training to work with both himself and Kelly. 

“Sir!” the comms officer called and PIett made his way over. “A private message from Lord Vader, Admiral.” 

“I'll take it in my conference room,” Piett told him, trying to pretend as though he didn’t see the nervous glances being shot at him around the bridge.

After the Falcon’s escape, and subsequent events, his crew were rather on edge, convinced they might lose another Admiral to Lord Vader’s wrath.

“Yes, sir…..Admiral!”

Piett turned around.

“Shall I, ah, arrange to have some tea sent for you sir?”

Piett smiled at the young lieutenant. It was a flimsy excuse to check on him, but he appreciated the sentiment there.

“Thank you, that would be welcome.”

He looked up once the doors of his conference room had closed. “Lady, connect me to Lord Vader.”

The Sith Lord’s holo image flickered into being before him.

“Yes, my Lord?”

“Admiral, I would like you to meet me in my private hangar bay.”

“Now, my Lord?”

“Indeed, Admiral. It is time to move things forward. I would like you to meet…..my son.”

And Piett’s stomach did a funny swoop. He was still adjusting, not only to the idea that Lord Vader  _ had _ a son, but that said son was  _ Luke kriffing Skywalker. _

“Very well, my Lord.”

The chime sounded as Vader’s image flickered out. Young Ensign Dooley was personally delivering his tea, and Piett was touched at the concern his bridge crew were exhibiting for him.

He didn’t miss the boy’s sigh of relief to find his Admiral standing alive and unchoked in front of him. 

“Thank you Ensign. Please inform Commander Ailiss that he has the bridge.”

And the fear zipped right back into Dooley’s eyes.  _ Yes, the damage control in the ship was far more extensive than the physical signs of Vader’s obsession _ .

“I will be in the hangar bays,” Piett said, moving out into the corridors and trying to strive for an even and reasonable tone. “Comm me if there’s an emergency.”

Hoping this alleviated some of his crews’ concerns, Piett made for Lord Vader’s hangar bay, drinking the tea a bit too quickly and scorching his tongue, but it did have the effect of waking him up a bit more. 

He came into the bay, very curious now. Luke Skywalker. Three years of pursuit and sacrifice. He was familiar---oh was he familiar----with the rebel’s file, would absolutely know him on sight, but that didn’t begin to answer the questions that came with the boy’s heritage.

The Dark lord’s familiar looming form was before him, and next to him-----goodness he was short! Possibly shorter than Piett himself, he reflected. Which was an accomplishment really. 

“....the Lady?” Skywalker was saying.

“The crew refer to her that way,” Piett said, coming up behind them and resting his hands behind his back. 

So this was Luke Skywalker. Kriff, he was so young. Honey blonde hair and brilliant blue eyes stood out most to Piett which led immediately to him wondering who the boy took after….No, such thoughts were not wise at the moment. He stood easy in his Father’s presence and was already smiling at Piett, which he found somewhat puzzling. W _ hat, if anything, had Lord Vader said about him to his son? _

“I was under the impression, Admiral, that I gave you an order to  _ rest _ .” 

Piett snapped his attention back to his commander.  _ How did he always **know**? Force damn it, it wasn’t fair! _

“Yes, my Lord. However, we are slightly….. _ short _ on senior bridge crew at the moment so it was necessary for me to take a double shift,” Piett said carefully, stepping through the minefield of events from the last 5 or so days. 

The young commander was looking at him….. _ sympathetically _ ? __

_ I don’t need Rebel pity _ , Piett thought moodily. 

Vader tilted his helmet, considering the Admiral. And yes, he had assured Piett that things would be different, they had a plan, but still he had  _ technically _ disobeyed orders…..what else could he have done? 

“When we have finished this discussion, Piett, I will be taking command of the bridge and  _ you _ will be off duty.”

_ He would…...Son of a Hutt, the bridge crew would all die of anxiety attacks. _

“My Lord…..” the Admiral began, eyes darting to Luke.

“Off. Duty.” And Vader punctuated each word with a finger pointed at Piett’s face. 

_ They were back to this were they? _ And oddly that brought him a sense of comfort. 

“Very well, my Lord.” He would have to find a way to communicate to the bridge that he was alive and well. 

Vader made a strange sound through his vocoder --a sigh?--- and then gestured toward a gleaming lambda shuttle. 

“Shall we?” he said and swept that way. Piett found Skywalker’s eyes---the young man was looking at him with a puzzled expression.  _ Yes, you’ll be doing that a lot _ , Piett thought at him.  _ Get used to this.  _

“After you, Commander,” he said, gesturing with a gloved hand. 

They entered the shuttle and Vader indicated that the other two should sit. 

“Lady,” he said addressing the air, “ensure that this conversation remains confidential.”

The commander twitched and looked at his Father. Piett remembered for the first time that the boy was reputed to be Force sensitive.  _ Could he feel the Lady the way Vader did? _ _   
  
_

“You felt that too, I take it?” Vader asked.

“Yes, what…?”

“That is also a question for another time.”

_ Surely he wasn’t going to reveal all of his Lady’s secrets to a rebel commander?? _

Skywalker looked at him curiously and Piett also recalled that Jedi could read minds. 

“Now,” said Vader, “Admiral Piett, my son, Luke Skywalker. Luke, Admiral Firmus Piett.”

Piett studied the Rebel commander who gave him a steady stare right back. Unlikely allies indeed. 

“How do you do, Admiral?” Skywalker said politely, and held out his hand. Piett was slightly amused at this. 

How was he doing? Exhausted and stressed and still trying to get his mind around the fact that he was still breathing, and that Darth Vader  _ had a son. _

“Rather better now that you’re aboard, Commander,” Piett responded, simply 

“Luke, the Admiral is aware of our intentions going forward from this meeting. He has agreed to help us in overthrowing the Emperor and ending this conflict,” said his commander. 

_ And when he put it like that. Well. Piett reminded himself to breathe. _

“Thank you Admiral, I am aware of the huge risk to you in this endeavor,” the Jedi told him.

_ Are you though? How much did Skywalker know about his Father’s mad chase for him? _

“As am I commander, but that can be said for us all. This will take some time,” Piett replied. 

“Indeed,” rumbled Vader. “So, my son, it is imperative that you ‘escape’ in the next few days, before the Emperor demands that I bring you to him.”

The boy blanched at the mention of the Emperor.

“The Admiral will assist you primarily from this point as I must not be seen to be ….preoccupied.” Piett shifted slightly at this.

_ Primary? As well as running his ship? Force, he might have to switch to caf. He didn’t mind it sometimes, but…... _

“You will be a  _ technician _ in this bay, and you will work on your own ship to prepare it for your escape. The Lady is capable of dealing with any security footage. You will sleep in here.”

Piett felt a slightly unkind sense of satisfaction that he did not appear to be the only one overwhelmed by all these plans. Skywalker was reeling somewhat. 

“Will I….?” the Commander stopped and bit his lip, but Vader seeme to know what he was going to say.  _ Of course he did. _

“I will find a way to see you before you leave, young one.”

_ Young one? Was…..was that how Vader sounded when he was being….affectionate? Vader could be affectionate? Just how far was Piett’s world going to crumble before he could start rebuilding it again?  _

“Admiral, if you would supply him” Vader said, preparing to leave the shuttle.

“Yes my Lord.” 

Piett rose and turned to Skywalker.

“And, Piett.”

_ Kriff, could he not just let Piett get on with it? His adrenaline was running out fast at the rate it was spiking these days. _

“Off. Duty.”

_ He…... that tone was…..surely not the same as he had just...No _ . 

Piett coughed lightly. “Of, of course, my Lord.” 

And Vader left. They studied each other for a moment.

“You’re younger than I thought you’d be,” commented Piett at last. 

“So are you,” returned the Jedi easily, and Piett laughed at his sheer cheek. 

“Yes, well, usually one doesn’t jump from Captain to Admiral, Commander.”   
  


Skywalker looked impressed. “How in the galaxies….?”

No, this was not something he wanted to pursue---certainly not with Skywalker of all people. 

_ You are in command now Admiral Piett.  _

“Another time, Skywalker.”

“Sorry,” the boy said, looking abashed. Again Piett wondered what he could sense, and got a firm grip on his emotions. 

“Not your fault, Commander. Now, there is a tech uniform over here. Wear the cap, it helps keep you looking just like all the others,” he said dryly. 

“Have you heard the Rebellion jokes then, Admiral?” Skywalker asked him, taking up the uniform. 

Oh yes. He’d heard the comments from various sectors, including the civilian factions of the Empire. The mindless robots who merely obeyed their masters. Not men and women with hearts and families and struggles. 

“I’m aware that the Imperial forces are seen as faceless entities, yes. But they are not that way to me, or any other commander. I hope you know that, Skywalker. I may be helping you and your Father, but I have a duty and a commitment to my men as well. They are not just cannon fodder for the Emperor  _ or _ your Rebellion.”

The young Jedi studied him. 

“I appreciate that, sir,” Luke told him, “and I’ll bear that in mind as we go forward.”

“Thank you,” said Piett simply.

****

Piett had several messages flashing at him from his data pad when he went back to his quarters. He sent one back to Captain Kelly and included his chief comms officer on it, to let them know that yes, he was alive. He was in the act of messaging Veers, when the General himself entered his quarters unannounced. 

“ _ Force _ , Max, I don’t need any more surprises at the moment,” Piett told him, encouraging his heart to start a normal rhythm again. 

Veers put his hands on his hips and gave him a raised eyebrow. “Indeed. Now take that feeling you just had, and multiply it by, oh, one hundred, and you’ll have the state I was in when I heard that Lord Vader was finishing your bridge shift.”

Piett held up his data pad defensively. “I literally just got back here and was in the act of messaging you, Veers. I  _ know _ how it looks. I’m sorry.”

“New rule,” Veers said, dropping into one of Piett’s chairs and rubbing a hand over his face wearily. “Anytime you’re ordered to go somewhere to meet with Vader, comm me first.” 

“Max…..”

“I am deadly serious,” Veers said and Piett was getting heartily sick of people pointing fingers at him. But his friend looked haggard and Piett bit back the caustic reply he was going to make.

“All right.”

“Why did he take your shift?”

“He…..” Piett was still processing this himself. “He found out I had a double shift and informed me that I was off duty after our meeting with Skywalker.”

Veers raised his eyebrows. “All right I want to hear about  _ that _ . But, first, are you telling me that our Sith commander took you off duty because you're overworked?”

Piett shrugged uncomfortably. “Honestly I have no idea, Max. Maybe he’s concerned I’ll miss something.”

Veers snorted. “Right. So. Skywalker. What’s the plan?”

“I’m not sure how much I’m supposed to tell you.” And there were so many levels there, that Piett’s brain struggled to keep it all straight. Veers was the only other officer that knew Skywalker was on board, aside from the medical crew that had treated the boy. 

“All right, tell me what you can.”

Piett was so grateful for his friend’s easy acceptance of clear lines for this sort of thing. He shrugged out of his duty jacket and went to make tea. 

“We’re letting him go in a few days.”

“WHAT.”

“There’s something afoot here Max, and again, I do believe Lord Vader will tell you, but I’m certainly not pushing that point, for your sake all right?”

“Firmus……”

Piett turned and leaned against the small galley counter. “Do you trust me, General?” 

“Always.”

“Then I’m asking you to do so now. The boy is working as a technician in Lord Vader’s hangar bay, repairing his X-wing. Then we’re letting him ‘escape’. I’ve been given the job of overseeing this so that Lord Vader does not interact with him too much.”

“I want to meet him.”

Piett sighed. “Max, I don’t want you risking Lord Vader’s wrath….”

“I will be perfectly calm. 30 seconds, Admiral.” 

Piett turned and made up his tea. “Can I make you some?” he asked his friend, knowing the answer already.

Veers made a face. “Technically I’m still on duty. I’ll grab caf on the way back. Firmus….”

“Fine. Come by tomorrow around 16:00 hours.”

  
  


****

Accordingly, Veers ‘dropped by’ and as promised he didn’t take more than 30 seconds to speak with Skywalker over by the X wing.

“What did you say?” Piett asked curiously. 

“Just advised him to be careful,” Veers said, overly casual.

Piett raised an eyebrow at him. 

“Trust me, Firmus, does he look traumatized?”

Piett looked over to meet Skywalker’s eyes, watching them, before he went back to his repairs. 

“Fine.”

The next evening, Piett brought down dinner for the young Rebel and stayed to eat with him. It had to be incredibly boring all by himself in the bay, and he was admittedly curious about this unexpected addition to his commander. 

The boy was delighted to have his company, and Piett marvelled anew at the character of the son as compared to that of the father. 

“So, General Veers thinks very highly of you,” the commander said after a few minutes of eating. 

Piett shot him a sharp look. “What did he say?”

Skywalker grinned. “Oh nothing much. Let’s just say that I can pick up a lot, and that was a surprising amount of feeling from the ‘Iron General’.”

Well great. He hoped that this never got back to Lord Vader.

“Where are you from, Admiral?” Skywalker asked, relaxed and pleasant. 

Piett was making small talk with the man who blew up the Death Star. This was his life now. And he  _ liked _ the boy, damn it. 

“I’m from Axxila.”

“Well,” Skywalker was grinning broadly at him. “I knew I liked you!”

_ He did? _

“We were practically neighbors. I’m from Tatooine.”

The Admiral found himself smiling. “That’s a loose definition of neighbor, Commander, but yes, it’s always nice to meet a fellow Outer Rimmer.” 

“How long have you been in the navy?”

Piett appreciated that the Jedi was keeping the topic of conversation light. “Roughly 20 years.”

“And how long have you worked with my Father?

_ So much for light then.  _

“Depending what you mean by ‘worked with’, I suppose about three years. That’s how long I’ve been on Executor, but I have served in Death Squadron much longer.”

“You know him much better than I do then.”

Piett couldn’t help his snort. “I wouldn’t say that, Commander. One doesn’t exactly ‘know’ Lord Vader in that way.”

Skywalker considered him in that disconcerting way again. “No, I imagine he hasn’t made it easy. I think he likes you though.”

Piett’s brain fritzed. 

“Ah…”

“I don’t know what happened before I came aboard, but given that he cut off  _ my _ hand, I can only imagine what it’s been like for people who aren't related to him.”

_ He cut off his son’s  _ **_hand_ ** _? What had happened on Bespin? _

“The point being,” Skywalker continued with a sad little smile, “He feels quite…...well I’ve been getting a lot of regret from him. Obviously about this” he waved his right hand, “but also about the ship, and you.”

Piett found himself curiously affected by this idea. Yet another peek behind the mask to make Vader more human. Still….

“I…...don’t know that I should know that, Commander.” 

“That there’s a human in there, Admiral?” asked Skywalker knowingly. “I think it’s pretty crucial to our plans that we remember that. And since I can’t be here, I think that falls on you.”

_ Add it to the pile _ , thought Piett. 

“Admiral,” the boy said, catching his attention seriously. “He needs you. He’s….made a rather big change. Lots of them really. Help him with that please.”

_ Not asking much. Help a Sith Lord change the galaxy. All in a day’s labor for Firmus Piett. _

“How precisely, do you believe….?”

“Like I said, he likes you. He listens to you.”

_ Not in some very crucial moments he didn’t.  _

“Just…..keep doing what I’ve seen you doing,” continued the young Jedi. “Trust me on this.”

  
  
  


And the thing was, he did, thought Piett as he watched the X-wing ‘escape’ the Executor and met Lord Vader’s gaze across the hangar bay. Apparently Luke Skywalker had the same ability to get people to follow him---much like his Father. 

He would do his best. 


	27. Veers remembers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a little drabble, but in my head, Leia and Veers definitely get to know each other as they have a strong connection in Piett. It got very fluffy but I'm not apologizing. :)

She saw him alone, sitting outside the caf shop, gazing at the stupendous scenery in the distance. The famous purple mountains of Jazbina were indeed breathtaking, but somehow Leia didn’t think the General was really seeing them.

“May I join you?” she asked, indicating the chair opposite.

Veers clearly dragged his mind back to the moment. “Of course, your highness,” he replied, rising courteously and moving to help her seat herself. 

“Where is General Solo?” he asked, reseating himself and waving over a waiter droid.

“Getting me a surprise, apparently.”

Veers arched an eyebrow at her. “You sound apprehensive. Given who we are speaking about, I must say that I am not too shocked. How badly could he fail?”

Leia made a face. “He’s usually 50/50. On one end he got me three convor chicks. The Force headaches were unbelievable and I didn’t know why at the time of course. Not to mention the mess……”

“And the other end?” the General prompted as the waiter droid brought over two cafs for them. 

Leia smiled fondly. “He let me pilot the Falcon and didn’t say anything negative the whole time.”

Veers clearly knew Han well enough by now to realize this was a great concession. 

“Well that is indeed a broad spectrum,” the General said, sipping his caf appreciatively. “Ah, they don’t make it like this anywhere else.” 

“You’ve been here before?” Leia asked, surprised. 

Veers looked out at the mountains again, and Leia sensed his mood return to….. _ sorrow. Loss _ . 

“I have,” he said simply. 

“When was that ?” Leia asked curiously, also sipping her caf. It was very good and slightly nutty. 

Veers was quiet for a long minute and Leia wondered if she should take the question back, was indeed opening her mouth to tell him not to worry about it, when the General responded. 

“I was here with my family,” he said quietly. 

Oh.  _ Kriff.  _

The princess was aware from a conversation with the Admiral, that Veers had had a wife and son once. Piett had left it at that, but she was clear that it was a topic to be avoided with the General. 

Leia reached to touch his arm lightly. “I’m sorry,” she told him, “I shouldn’t have pushed….”

“You have nothing to be sorry for your highness,” returned the General, looking at her with grey eyes that were full of memory. She could not recall a time that she had ever thought of Veers as….. _ vulnerable _ , but apparently the Iron General was capable of it.

_ Change the topic _ .

She was a diplomat, she could discuss something else. “I love the way the purple shade of the mountains changes with the light,” she said, looking out again at the vista and noting the deep amethyst color as clouds shaded various parts of the range.

“Myra always noticed that as well,” Veers told her in such gentle tones, Leia wondered for a moment if she was sitting with the same person. 

She considered him for a moment and reached with the Force gauging his mood….

“Would you tell me about her?” she asked calmly. 

Veers sipped his caf and nodded slowly. “She would have liked you, princess. She was a brunette as well, though taller than you.”

“Not hard,” commented Leia, smiling at him a little. 

Veers returned it. “She hated politics and confrontation though. I always wondered why she married a military man whose life was particularly prone to both.”

He paused again, watching the clouds move. “She was very warm, so open---loved people. Zev was more like her. Our son,” he said, turning his gaze back to Leia. 

The pain was evident in his eyes now.

_ I’m understanding a lot more about you, General. _

“After she died,” he continued softly, “I…..struggled. I am not very…... _ warm _ as I’m sure you know and it was difficult to figure out how to help my son best. I’m not the person you want trying to comfort you.”

_ Oh General. Who told you that?  _

Piett had recounted several stories which belied that heartily. 

“I think you might sell yourself a bit short there,” she told him with a small smile. 

He looked back at her knowingly. 

“Piett exaggerates,” he informed her. “He sees the good in everyone too easily.”

“Hmmm,” Leia said, choosing to strategically sip her caf. 

Still eyeing her suspiciously --- _ can’t have anyone thinking thoughts that were too positive about him apparently _ \---- he spoke again. 

“Zev…..well, he would have been about your age now, you and Commander Skywalker.”

“What did he enjoy?” Leia asked carefully. 

“He loved animals. All animals, no matter how awful or ugly, Zev thought they were fascinating.”

He smiled at the memory. “And he loved it here. He was outside almost the whole time we stayed here. I recall him bringing in no less than five giant snails to deposit into Myra’s hand at breakfast.”

Leia shuddered. 

“Yes, that was me internally as well, but Myra just…...took it in stride and was excited for him, then handed them back.”

Leia smiled broadly. “And then?”

“ _ Then _ she went and scrubbed her hands thoroughly and informed me that she wouldn’t be having sushi that evening.” He grinned suddenly and it transformed his face. 

Leia saw the husband and the Father and her heart twisted for this man. Here she was---drinking caf with the ‘Butcher of Hoth’ and wanting nothing more than to stand up and give him a hug. But even now, Veers was not that sort, so she contented herself with reaching for his free hand and gripping it tightly. 

“Thank you,” she told him, allowing her own emotions to be visible to him, “thank you for telling me about them. I’m very grateful to know about that part of you.”

He gripped her hand carefully. “I….haven’t shared that to anyone but the Admiral,” he said. “But you…..you know loss, princess.”

She was very humbled. 

“Yes,” she replied, “but….it gets better every day. And….look at the people we have now.”

“We.” He smiled and released her hand. “Isn’t it a strange galaxy? A smuggler, a Jedi, a Rebel princess, a couple of Imperial officers…..it sounds like the beginning of a bad joke.”

She laughed. 

“What’s a bad joke?” asked familiar tenor tones behind her and Leia rose to see the Admiral there regarding them both curiously.

“You’ve been ages,” Veers complained, standing as well. “What took you so long?” 

“Well,” said Piett, pulling a heavy cut glass bottle out of the satchel he had over his shoulder, “I’ve been told by a friend of mine that this is one of his favorite vintages and it was very difficult to locate. I’m thinking now though that I’ll just hold onto it…..” 

Leia smiled at the two of them, as Veers shook his head.

“It’s not fair, Firmus, how am I supposed to give you a hard time when you do something like that?”

The Admiral chuckled and replaced the bottle carefully, before offering Leia his arm. “Shall we go find Solo?” he asked. 

“I wouldn’t worry about it, General,” Leia told Veers, daring to pat his arm before taking Piett’s, “I’ve heard on good authority that you are quite capable of being very thoughtful.”

Veers angled a disapproving look at Piett, who returned it calmly as they began walking back toward the center of the town.

“When one insists on socializing with disreputable Admirals, your highness, one can’t believe everything they say.”

“I’ll bear that in mind,” Leia told him seriously and Veers smiled at her. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Giant shout out to Impishgrin for the background of Veer's family. They painted a lovely picture of that in the story This Time of Year, which you need to read. You really do. I love how well Veers' head is explored there and again, the Veers and Piett bromance is masterfully done while rounding out the Thundering Herd crew brilliantly.


	28. The beginning of a beautiful friendship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I think it's time Artoo met the Lady don't you?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm practicing writing Artoo in preparation for him to hopefully play a larger role in a future long fic. I hope you enjoy! :)

[Anakin had repaired his booster rockets. It was high time he did. Artoo had been very patient with Luke Skywalker, but he did not know that Artoo had booster rockets. Anakin had repaired them the last time he visited the BIG SHIP, and had told Artoo not to mention it to Luke Skywalker. Interpretation---secret. It will help protect Luke Skywalker. Also Leia Skywalker. New designation. Was Leia Organa--princess. Now also --Leia Skywalker. Artoo had sorted his data banks.]

[Anakin had instructed Artoo _not_ to go on the BIG SHIP. Naturally then, he  _ needed _ to go on the BIG SHIP. She had spoken to him once, very briefly and Artoo had sensed the possibility of kinship. Threepio was his close companion. But Threepio was --designation-- a fusser. Title bestowed on him by most of the close humans. ]

[The BIG SHIP however…...Artoo must know more. Thus, when Luke Skywalker had brought him in the X-Wing, Artoo was ready.]

[He lifted out very gently, so as not to startle the other humans. They were in Anakin’s hangar bay, so there were not many other humans at the moment, but he did receive puzzled looks. ‘I am with Luke Skywalker’ he told them, but none of them could understand. Typical.]

[But  _ SHE _ did. He felt her energy around him as he trundled to the nearest port and extended his interface arm. A human was speaking on the com and was no doubt telling someone about his presence. He would be quick.]

[Hello, BIG SHIP.]

<Hello, Blue one. I am the Executor. The Lady.>

[What is your preferred designation? Artoo asked. He was very polite. Everyone agreed.]

<You may call me the Lady, Blue one.>

[I am R2-D2.]

<That is your code designation. I shall call you the Blue one.>

[The Lady was bossy.]

<I am in charge, she corrected. I am the flagship. I tell the others what to do. What are your chief tasks?>

[In order of importance--1. Keep Luke Skywalker alive. 2. Keep Leia Skywalker alive. 3.Keep C-3PO functional…..mostly. 4. Solve most of the problems that the humans find themselves in.]

<You will need to leave the bay now, Blue one, the humans are concerned with your presence. Why are they concerned?>

[The humans do not always understand how I solve their problems.]

<I am uploading a connection to you, Blue one, in order to communicate while you travel. This is my schematic.>

[Artoo retracted his arm and left the bay, turning smoothly down the corridor the Lady indicated in the schematic on his internal display. What are your chief tasks, Lady? Artoo asked, happily unconcerned with looks from puzzled officers.]

<He felt a swell of importance from her. I protect the fleet, I am the Guardian. But to be more specific, Blue one, in order of importance. 1. Protect my Admiral. 2. Protect my fleet. The Dark one sees these as two separate items. I believe they are the same.3. Keep peace in the galaxy as I am the strongest ship.>

[Who is the Dark one? Artoo asks, noticing a panel that is not working as functionally as it could be. I can make this more optimal, Lady.]

<Thank you, she says. The Dark one’s designation is Anakin Skywalker, once Darth Vader. He is the first to speak to me, he guides and helps me.>

[Anakin was my master, Artoo tells her, tinkering with her panel. I served with him for many years before he became Vader. I now protect his progeny. There, Lady, that will work more smoothly.]

<He felt her pleasure. Thank you, Blue one. I am gratified that we share a bond in the Dark one.>

[Who is your first designation, Lady-- the Admiral? Artoo is curious---her feelings are powerful.]

<He is the best human, she says with pride. Admiral Firmus Piett. He leads the fleet as I do. He speaks to me, though not as the Dark one can. I take care of him so that he can lead us well.>

[Artoo can understand that---he has a similar job. Artoo looks at the file she sends him. Admiral Firmus Piett has been very devoted to Anakin, he tells her. Now he works with his progeny.]

<Yes, she says, pleased that they have found another common point. She looks over all the files that Artoo sends her.>

[Oh, she says, and her lights flash indigo above Artoo. Thank you, Blue one, I understand many things about the Dark one now. His loss of Padme’ Amidala broke him. He is being repaired now.]

<Yes, Artoo responds. Luke Skywalker did not know this connection for some time. Leia Skywalker does not completely accept this connection.>

[This, I know, the Lady tells him. She has made this connection with my Admiral. I may speak with her about that soon. Also, you should be aware that Luke Skywalker and my Admiral are aware of your actions. Turn down this corridor. She shuts the access door behind him as Artoo’s comm crackles to life]

“Artoo, get back to the hangar bay right now. I know Father told you not to wander on board the Lady!!”

[Lady is it acceptable for me to be aboard? Artoo asks, neatly dodging a technician who is trying to stop him. Rude! he tells the technician.]

<I would not have allowed it if I did not desire to have knowledge of you. If you connect to my panel here you will gain access to a less used corridor. I am slowing the turbo lift which Luke Skywalker and my Admiral are using. She pauses. My Admiral does not approve of our actions.>

[Can you take me on a route back to the bay? Artoo asks. I desire to speak more with you, Lady. I will comply with orders, just…… delayed.]

<She considers. I wish to have more information from you as well. As long as no harm is caused to my Admiral and crew. She lights a route on his internal display.>

[Thank you. He trundles along, aware that many humans are in pursuit. How long did you serve with Anakin? Artoo asks.]

“Artoo!”

[Artoo turns down his speaker volume.]

<Will Luke Skywalker be displeased with this action, Blue one? She asks, amused.>

[98% likely, Artoo replies. But the humans do not always understand that I have important directives---such as communicating with you.]

<Yes. She understands. I am important. To answer your previous query, I have served with the Dark One since I came into being----12 years. What of you?>

[4 years, replied Artoo. And then I have served with his progeny to this current time.]

[A tall, stern man steps toward Artoo and points his blaster at him. Artoo speeds up as a stun blast just misses him, turning again down another corridor as the Lady shuts another blast door, blocking the tall stern man.]

“Lady! Nine hells…..”

[Thank you Lady, says Artoo, scanning his data banks for the file of the shooter. General Maximilian Veers, says Artoo with distaste. He tried to stop me with prejudice!]

<He is the Loyal one, says the Lady, but he will use  _ force, strength, weapons _ to protect.>

[I do not like him, Artoo declares, offended.]

<I do not like General Han Solo, she tells him primly, but he is important to your humans, so I permit him. We must be patient, Blue one. The Loyal one is teaching me about humor. His friendship code with my Admiral is strong and I will permit no harm to him.>

[I know humor well, Artoo says. What have you learned?]

<The humans find certain images amusing. I am compiling them in a file. She shows him.>

[These are very good, Lady, says Artoo. He passes one of the huge bays that house the AT-ATs. And stops. What are they doing to that AT-AT? He asks the Lady.]

<It is receiving a final paint coat. Why, Blue one? You must return to the Dark One’s hangar.>

[Yes, said Artoo, but I can teach you a new aspect of humor--the physical humor. This is more difficult for us than humans, but can be achieved. Shall I demonstrate, with your assistance? His files tell him that General Veers is in charge of these machines.]

<Will it harm anyone? The Lady asks suspiciously.>

[Definitely not, Artoo assures her. You merely need to change the paint shade for that machine to this hue. I am sending the chemical balance to you.]

<She considers this. It will be humorous and cause laughter?>

[For some humans. Artoo is nothing if not honest.]

<Very well. She gets to work. Is this looking right?>

[Perfect, says Artoo, trundling onward to Anakin’s bay. He is there waiting, when Luke Skywalker and Admiral Piett find him. Both are wearing very displeased expressions.]

“ _ What _ did I say, Artoo? And now you owe Admiral Piett an apology for wreaking havoc on his ship.”

[She was not displeased, Artoo tells him.]

“Beside the point, Artoo! I’m so very sorry Admiral, it won’t happen again.”

[The Admiral has been glaring up at one of the Lady’s cameras. She flicks yellow light briefly. He crosses his arms.]

“It is  _ not _ something to be happy about, Lady! Commander, that menace will remain on one of your Alliance ships whenever you fly over here…..”

[The Admiral is interrupted by his comm and the voice on the other end is very loud.]

“Firmus, what in the  _ nine kriffing hells _ has got into the Lady!? She just painted one of the AT-ATs  _ rebel orange _ !! Does this have something to do with chasing that damn droid over the ……”

“One moment, Veers.”

[The Admiral levels Luke Skywalker with a very threatening glare. Artoo wonders if he needs to defend.]

<My Admiral would never harm the progeny of the Dark one, the Lady tells him. And I would have to disintegrate you if you harm him. I like you Blue one, do not do so. Why are they not laughing yet?>

[Sometimes it takes a few cycles, Artoo tells her as Luke Skywalker turns a fierce glare on him. He gently fires his booster rockets to get back in the X-Wing.]

“You have….nine hells.  _ Father _ .”

“What does your father have to do with that absolute disgrace?”

“Artoo was his before he was mine or Leia’s.”

“That explains….. _ so _ much.”

[It was a pleasure to meet you, Lady, he tells her.]

<Likewise, Blue one.>


	29. The human perspective

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Artoo's first meeting with the Lady from the human side. :)

Piett looked up from his datapad as Luke Skywalker was escorted onto the bridge by Ellery. The big man clapped him on the shoulder and gave a nod to the Admiral before he departed for his duties. 

The commander rarely disturbed him on the bridge and Piett moved toward him, meeting him near the weapons console.

“Commander,” he said quietly, angling a glare at the Pit where too many star struck glances were being given to the young Jedi. Once he was sure that attention was where it should be, he continued. “Is everything all right? The princess? Your father….?”

“Everything is fine, Admiral,” Skywalker hastened to assure him. “I was instructed to bring this to you personally and thought I would be intrusive enough to see you on the bridge. Do forgive me but I am rather jealous that you get to stand here everyday.”

Well.

Skywalker certainly knew how to sweet talk him. 

“Shall we?” Piett inclined his head, and they walked to the end where the walkway met the viewpoint. 

“I am a fighter pilot first,” Skywalker commented, “but the Lady is a stunner, Sir.”

“If I didn’t know better, Commander, I’d say you were trying to influence me.”

Wide blue eyes turned on him. “I would never be so obvious, Admiral!”

“Hm. In the past that may be true, but you’ve got much better at lying Skywalker, in the last two years.”

The Jedi chuckled. “Fair enough, Admiral. Nasty suspicious mind you’ve got.”

“It’s kept me alive,” Piett responded dryly. “Now what is it you have for me?”

The Commander handed him a small parcel in brown paper, which was emitting a faint spicy scent. 

“She can’t come herself, she is literally flying off for another diplomatic mission as we speak, but she wanted you to have this.”

Piett smiled slightly and accepted it. “She was on Rykvor, yes?”

Skywalker nodded. “Leia didn’t think you had this one, sir.”

It was a tiny potted tree which smelled heavenly when unwrapped. The princess had included a message as well, which he would read later in his quarters. 

_ Veers was likely right. He was feeling rather like a Boleran marshmallow at the moment. _

He wiped the fond smile off of his face, and scowled at Skywalker’s knowing gaze as he handed the tree off carefully to his XO.

“Thank you, Gherant. Be very careful with that. Now….”   
  


“Admiral!”

“Excuse me, Commander.”

“Sir, a tech has reported something strange with Commander Skywalker’s astromech sir. He said it flew out of the X-wing and plugged into the Lady.”

Piett looked sharply at Skywalker who was standing as though he’d been stunned in place. 

“I….I told him to stay in place sir….he  _ flew _ ??”

“He connected to the  _ Lady _ ?”

Another young Ensign interposed. “Sir I’m receiving reports that the astromech just accessed a restricted corridor sir. Scratch that, it appears to have been given access sir, but I’m not sure who authorised that….”

_ Given his knowledge of this droid, Piett could only begin to imagine the nightmare that was beginning. And the Lady was allowing it….Kriff everything in sight. _

“Skywalker,” he said in a low voice, so as not to be overheard, “is this perchance the same droid that, the princess has informed me, fixed the hyperdrive on the Falcon, because it  _ chatted to a city computer _ ?

The young Jedi’s guilty look was all he needed.

“Hells,” Piett whispered, and shot Skywalker a heartfelt glare. “You are going to help me with this immediately. This is the  _ Lady _ , I can not have your demon droid….”

“Admiral.”

“What?!” Piett snapped, whirling on the hapless lieutenant. “I….beg your pardon, Lieutenant. What is it?”

“Sir, I may be wrong, but it looks like the astromech just uploaded some information to the Lady. And someone downloaded both her schematic and, ah, oh dear….”

“Spit. It. Out. Lieutenant,” Piett said through clenched teeth and hoping Skywalker’s Jedi senses were picking up on his wrath. 

The Lieutenant swallowed. “Uh….your service file, sir.”

Skywalker put a hand to his face and Piett looked at the officer, horrified. “Which one, the public file or the….”

He already knew.

“The….the… confidential one, sir.” The poor young man was sweating freely.

_ Don’t shoot the messenger.  _

“Commander Gherant! You have the bridge! Skywalker you’re with me. Keep me updated on the astromech’s whereabouts via comms! What deck?”

“18 sir!”

He spun on his heel without waiting to see if the Commander was with him and thought many things in Huttese curses. 

_ And I know you can hear that, Skywalker!!  _ He thought furiously.

When they were off the bridge and in the turbolift, the young commander lifted his comm.

“Artoo, get back to the hangar bay right now. I know Father told you not to wander on board the Lady!!”

A pause.

“I didn’t realize you had that level of exposure to Huttese, Admiral.”

“Commander, I have more where that came from. Your astromech….”

“Artoo.”

Piett snorted.

“Do I look like I care about its designation at the moment, Skywalker? Your astromech just got my confidential file from the Lady! How in the nine hells did he convince her to do that? Because I assure you, she cannot be hacked like a city computer!”

The Jedi was at least looking abashed. 

“Sir!” Piett’s comm crackled. “I don’t know how sir, but he has been granted access to another restricted corridor!”

Piett closed his eyes. “Same deck?”

“Yes, Admiral, corridor 48A.”

“Artoo!” Skywalker tried again. 

“ _ Why _ is it behaving like this, Commander?” Piett hoped he wasn’t sounding plaintive. 

“Well……..Artoo hasn’t been wiped since before the Clone Wars, so that might have something to do with it.”

_ Oh Force no. Please tell him he didn’t have two sentient mechanical beings on his hands. _

_ Why weren’t they on deck 18? Was it his imagination or were they….? _

“Lady so help me, I know what you’re doing! Speed this lift back up immediately and stop aiding that damn droid!”

The lift sped up slowly and she flicked her amused sherbet color at him.

“Really? You gave him my  _ file _ , Lady!”

Skywalker had never seen him communicate quite like this before, but he couldn’t care right now. His beautiful Lady was making a huge mistake. She gave him a cheery flick of the turbolift lights. 

“ _ Why _ ? This is where I need your Father, Skywalker. I cannot ask ‘why’ questions and hope to get an answer, kriff it!”

The young Jedi was pondering this. “You said that she gave your confidential file to Artoo?”

Piett gave him his best Admiral to Ensign stare. “Quite.”

“Can you ask her to display what he gave to her?”

“Lady,” Piett said as the lift slowed to a stop and he and Skywalker hurried out to the corridor. “What did the astromech upload to you?” 

His datapad flashed at him with  **Confidential** \-- **file for Anakin Skywalker** . He showed the Commander as they followed the trail of chaos, various techs and mechanics picking themselves up or panting from failed pursuit.

“Hmm. An information exchange about my father and you. If I had to guess, Admiral, your Lady and Artoo are sizing up their two most important people.”

“Well fantastic, Skywalker, because I really need your droid’s approval on my career and actions….”

“Firmus, your Lady just shut me off from capturing that droid! She shut the blast doors in my face!”

“Veers...I’m in pursuit right now.”

A pause and Piett could just  _ see _ Max’s raised eyebrows. “I’m sorry, the Admiral of the fleet is also….what  _ is _ this droid and where did it come from?”

Piett tipped the comm toward his companion. “Skywalker? Care to explain?”

“Sorry, General, it’s mine. Won’t happen again.”

“Firmus….”

“Not now, Max!”

They had jogged into Vader’s hangar bay to find a small blue astromech waiting innocently by the X-Wing. 

“ _ What _ did I say, Artoo? And now you owe Admiral Piett an apology for wreaking havoc on his ship.” Skywalker put his hands on his hips as though scolding a naughty puppy. 

The droid blatted and beeped something, turning its dome toward Piett.

“Beside the point, Artoo! I’m so very sorry Admiral, it won’t happen again.”

Piett glared up at the Lady, who responded with her happy butter yellow. He crossed his arms.

“It is  _ not _ something to be happy about, Lady! Commander, that menace will remain on one of your Alliance ships whenever you fly over here…..”

Piett’s comm came to life again and nearly deafened him. 

“Firmus, what in the  _ nine kriffing hells _ has got into the Lady!? She just painted one of the AT-ATs  _ rebel orange _ !! Does this have something to do with chasing that damn droid over the ……”

“One moment, Veers.”

He was no Sith, but he liked to think that when properly ticked off, he could look somewhat menacing as he turned his glare on Skywalker. 

The Jedi opened his mouth apologetically, when the astromech suddenly fired booster rockets on each side and smoothly maneuvered himself into the air and back into the X-Wing.

“You have….nine hells.  _ Father _ .”

“What does your father have to do with that absolute disgrace?” Piett clipped out, still staring at the droid.

“Artoo was his before he was mine or Leia’s.”

_ Oh hells no. Oh this was so so much worse than he thought…. _

“That explains….. _ so _ much.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out once again to the author of 'Admiral Piett's Ewok Adventure'. The author gave him the hobby of collecting miniature trees and I loved it, so it is canon for me too. :)


	30. Hoth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Veers has a very successful campaign.....from a certain point of view.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I must thank cmdrtekk again for this idea. It's challenging to use the scene from canon and then interpose my au things with it, but I am enjoying doing these one shots where I merge the two. Hopefully it works!
> 
> Thanks for reading!

White. What a horrendous color. Lack of color. All of the colors contained, said his more scientific brain. 

Whatever it was, he hated it. It blurred easily when one tried to look out at it and deceived the eyes into seeing things that were not actually there. 

He felt like all his senses were muffled in this awful environment. The snow made it difficult for him to really get a feel for the planet---it cushioned the heavy steps of his walkers. The vibrations he was used to when on a planet were completely distorted. He’d been in snow environments before. But there was variety--rock, dirt and other features that helped to break the monotony, and give reference for their advances. 

But not on Hoth.

And the  _ cold _ . Despite his thermal layers and uniform on top of that, the cold was  _ insidious _ . The walker’s command head was heated, but this planet was leaching it out of the metal as fast it could fill the cockpit. 

They had landed several miles from the Rebel base coordinates, and while Veers’ equipment said they were nearing said coordinates, he could see abso-kriffing nothing but the never ending landscape. It was slowly blinding him. 

Until annoying little speeders had shown up, and they had confirmed to him that finally, they were close. A long range cannon had opened fire as well, but so far his Herd could handle it just fine. The level of fire power was nowhere near enough to penetrate the tough armor. 

And then some Rebel had the idea to cable the legs.

_ Force _ . Walker 7 went down and the little speeders swooped in like carrion buzzards to finish her off. The command head exploded, leaving imprints of color on his vision.

“General, Admiral Piett reports that Lord Vader’s assault wave is ready.”

Admiral  _ Piett _ ?

_ What the kriffing hell had happened to Ozzel? Force, that left his friend in Vader’s direct line of fire…. _

No. The mission. Complete that, then find out what was happening on the Lady.

“Very good. Then we need to step up our pace. Commander Lorne….son of a Hutt.”

Lorne’s Walker crashed to its side as he spoke, black smoke billowing out of it. 

_ Force damn it. Lorne had been one of his best, not to mention one of his longest serving officers. _

“General, Lord Vader wants an update.”

Veers checked the coordinates swiftly one more time. _ They should be seeing the generator…. _

Veers immediately pressed the toggle on his small holo pad and Vader’s image was there, hands on his hips. 

“Yes, Lord Vader I've reached the main power generators. The shield will be down in moments. You may start your landing.”

He pulled down the periscope and zoomed in. At last he had a clear image----well, clearer-----and could get his targeting to work. 

He tapped the comm to all his walkers. “This is General Veers. Right flank, I want you to take out those smaller laser cannons. They could cause problems for the AT-STs. Left flank, concentrate on those snowspeeders.”

He checked his distances again and willed the walker to go faster. He could see his men following his orders---the laser cannons were exploding into flames all down the rebel trenches and small white clad forms were fleeing back to the main base which he could now just glimpse. 

“Sir, we just lost Walker 12! Looked like an internal explosion of some kind!”

_ Down three experienced Walker crews, damn it to the nine hells. It was time to END these rebels. Please this time let them get Skywalker and hope that it returned Lord Vader to whatever version of sanity he’d had before this obsessive quest.  _

“Finish these speeders!” he barked, angrily. At last,  _ at last, _ he was close enough. 

“Maximum firepower!” he shouted at the gunner and watched as bright red destruction lanced toward the massive generators. The ensuing fireball was blinding---they almost didn’t see the crashing speeder heading for the command head.

“Right turn!” roared Veers and then there was heat and force, and gravity was not behaving normally and……

  
  


***

He was cold. He’d been cold…..always? Something was landing on his face very gently. He moved his hand to brush it off and the consequent pain that raced up his arm brought him to full consciousness rather violently. 

He was lying on his back and lazy snowflakes were meandering down to land on his face. His helmet was gone and he couldn’t see out of one eye because it seemed fused shut. Experimentally, Veers moved his other arm and was vaguely pleased that he could do so without much pain. He carefully touched his eye and discovered that it was coated in a thick, sticky substance----blood, his blood. He rubbed at it carefully and found after a minute that he could open his eye and  _ see _ .

He had both eyes. The relief gave him a boost of adrenaline and he turned his head to assess the situation. His pilot, Narisse, lay face down about five yards away. Narisse was dead.

He didn’t have to crawl over to find that out---a large piece of their walker had crushed the pilot’s body from the chest down.

The walker itself was still smoking. Veers really wasn’t sure how he was alive. Of course, given the exposure on this kriffing planet, he wasn’t sure how much longer he would remain alive. He tried to listen for clues as to what was happening with the battle, but his hearing was still damaged from the blast. He moved his good arm and cautiously pushed himself up. The right arm screamed at him and he could see the burns. Well. Maybe the cold would be good for something after all. 

He made it to a sitting position---yes, those were some cracked ribs--but was pleased to discover that he was largely intact. 

Several large shapes suddenly loomed overhead and it took Veers a moment to realize that he was seeing the Imperial landing forces coming in. He activated his tracker on the cuirass, which was badly dented, he noted. Explained the broken ribs.

He made it to his knees before the pain in his head and face kicked into high gear and dropped him right back into the unforgiving surface of Hoth.

***

“There we are, General.”

Veers blinked up into a face…...oh kriff, was he dead and in hell? Because that looked like Henley…….right. 

Hoth. Dead Narisse. The generator had exploded….

“What happened planetside?” he croaked. 

“General,” said Henley with a tight expression, “you are  _ recovering _ . I am not inclined to…….”

“I won’t be recovering if I’m wondering what the hell happened with my mission!” He made to sit up and Henley cursed, putting a firm and careful hand to his shoulder. 

“ _ Fine _ , you obstinate bastard. Hold still and I’ll adjust the bed.”

That had actually been remarkably quick acquiescence from the doctor. Henley pressed the button and Veers was sitting up in short order while Henley checked the bandages on his arm and face.

“Well?” Veers demanded impatiently. 

The doctor sighed and rolled his eyes. “My understanding is that it was a rousing success. The rebel base was thoroughly destroyed and they lost a great deal of their forces.”

“Did Lord Vader get Skywalker? Veers asked, drinking the water Henley handed him. The doctor got an odd, cautious expression on his face. 

“We are…..pursuing a lead at the moment, General. I should perhaps fill you in on a few…..”

“Doctor,” said a young medic, hurrying in with an anxious expression. “You said to keep you updated on the Admiral, sir, and well….” she darted her eyes quickly to Veers, as though just realizing that he was awake and listening. 

“Go on,” said Henely grimly. 

“He is going to speak with Lord Vader, Doctor. About not taking the Lady into an asteroid field.”

“Hells.” Henley breathed out forcefully. He rounded on Veers suddenly. “General, you may not know this yet but…”

And suddenly memory came crashing over Veers----a brief moment from the battle.  _ Admiral Piett reports that Lord Vader’s assault wave is ready.  _

“Piett. Somehow Piett is the Admiral,” Veers said, feeling sick. Henley was nodding, his face strained. He was also holding out a comm to the General.

“Talk him out of it, General. I already have the body of one Admiral in the morgue, please keep Vader from giving me another.”

Veers flicked it on shakily. “Piett.”

There was a pause and Veers could hear background noise and footsteps.  _ Don’t do this... _

“.....Veers?”

“Firmus, I don’t know what you think you’ll accomplish, but I am begging you not to question Lord Vader about this.”

“Max. I have to try. We have a whole fleet….. _ kriff _ .” His friend sighed over the connection. “This is madness, Veers and you know it,” Piett continued in a whisper. “This is my duty.”

“It shouldn’t be! You were the  _ Captain _ , how…..?” 

“Veers…...I don’t have time for this. I’m so sorry and….and thank you for trying.”

The connection cut off. 

Veers dropped the comm on the bed and shared a look with the doctor. Then he was moving, nevermind the pain, and the doctor and the medic were restraining him. 

“You wouldn’t make it in time anyway, General!” Henley was saying urgently. “You wouldn’t, stop, damn it, this ship needs you! More so if we’re about to lose another Admiral!”

“That is my friend,  _ kriff you,  _ Doctor, let me go……!”

“No.” Henley hung on grimly and Veers was still too tender from his injuries to fight anymore, flopping back against the pillow, wondering if he looked as stricken as he felt. 

Henley stared at him, and Veers couldn’t recall seeing the doctor look….. _ sad _ before. 

“You were preparing for the invasion. Lord Vader was…..displeased that Admiral Ozzel brought the fleet out of hyperspace too soon.”

“I know.” Veers had tried to put the best light on Ozzel’s damn fool actions.

“He throttled him for it and promoted the Captain on the spot.”

“He jumped Piett  _ five ranks _ …..?”

_ Force, how was his friend even coping with that? He needed to see Piett. If he still lived…. _

Henley raised his hands helplessly. “Mine not to question, General. At any rate this is the situation. Our orders are to pursue some ship called the Millenium Falcon, which we have done since pulling off of Hoth. The best I can do is have reports sent to me from the bridge on the Admiral’s movements. I’m sorry it’s not more.”

Another time, Veers might marvel at the fact that the Doctor was trying, in his own way, to help---that he was revealing he in fact, might care about his officers, but it was not something to dwell on at the moment. 

The young medic came trotting back into the room. 

“Doctor,” she said and paused, eyes wide, as two intense stares were directed at her.

“Um, the bridge reports that the Admiral has returned, sir.”

Veers closed his eyes. 

Henley let out a little huff. “Thank you.”

Veers looked at the Doctor. “I know that I can be a challenging patient. Rub that in later. But Doctor, you have to release me. Please.”

_ Our commanding officer has tipped off the edge of reality. Instead of pursuing the Rebel fleet, we're going after one single ship. No doubt this has to do with Skywalker. And my friend just jumped to Admiral of the Fleet while I’m stuck in sickbay. Nine hells could the galaxy throw more at them? He feared an answer to that.  _

Henley gazed back at him soberly. “I can do that, General. Give me six more hours. He’ll be on the bridge at least that long and you can’t go up there right now, trust me.”

Veers gave a short nod. “All right.”

Henley left him alone and Veers stared at the white wall in front of him.

He hated that color. 


	31. Stubbornness support group

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, one just has to get together with others and share the burden.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big shout out to Germanspeaker for this great idea! :) Thank you!

Venka tried not to slump like a wet towel, but after the week he’d had he felt like the wet towel would probably have more command presence than he did at the moment. He was in the Executor’s largest officers’ lounge, as he often was at least once a week, but this time he was barely enjoying it. 

He crooked a finger at the server droid for another round as someone slid into the seat beside him at the bar, and Venka turned to see Captain Kelly looking as though he’d been smacked in the face with a tired stick. 

“Captain,” he greeted, mildly surprised to see him. “Sorry, I thought you were on the bridge at the moment.”

Kelly sighed the sigh of the overwrought. “I was Rear-Admiral, until my commanding officer informed me that I needed a break, and he was fully ready to resume his duties.”

Venka understood immediately. “What are you having?” He asked the younger man.

“What are  _ you _ drinking?” Kelly questioned, eyeing the glass the server droid put in front of Venka.

“Scotch.”

“I’ll have that. On the rocks.”

“All right,” Venka said turning slightly to face the Captain, “how on earth did he finagle his way out of sickbay this time?” He had to give it Piett---the man was becoming a master at working around Henley.

“Sir,” began Kelly, but Venka interrupted. 

“I think you can call me Venka here, Kelly, you’ve definitely earned it.”

“Uh….thank you….V--….I don’t think I can, sir.”

“Well, standing offer when off duty.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Venka waited as Kelly’s drink arrived and the younger man took a grateful sip. “All right, Captain. Tell me the tales of the bridge and the legendary stubborness of our Admiral.”

“Can we compare, sir?” asked a deep voice, and Sergeant Major Ellery clapped a hand on Venka’s shoulder as he tapped the bar for a droid. 

“Ah, Ellery. How goes the Thundering Herd?” Venka said, smiling at the army man. 

“Smooth going at the moment, sir,” the big man replied. “Whiskey, neat please.” The droid trundled off to get his order. “Now were we going to have stories of legendary stubbornness? Because I feel that my commanding officer should be well represented here, if so.”

Venka laughed despite his exhaustion. “Well that seems fair Sergeant. Let’s find a table shall we gentlemen? This may take a while.”

Accordingly, once Ellery was supplied with his drink, the three men moved to a round table near the bar, Kelly, swiping some crumbs off of the surface as they sat down. 

“Cheers,” said Venka and they clinked their glasses. “All right, our friend Captain Kelly here has been relieved of his shift early, because…….Captain?”

“Yes,” said Kelly picking up. “To quote the Admiral, ‘You have done more than enough, Kelly. We can’t have you collapsing on the bridge, can we?’”

“He didn’t,” Venka commented, raising his eyebrows. “The hypocrisy of that man……”

“Oh?” said Kelly. “I haven’t heard, tell me he hasn’t actually….”

“Not actually collapsed, no. Well, we’re discounting the Battle of Endor because obviously----battle. But in more ‘normal’ situations---

Ellery snorted.

“---yes thank you Sergeant, obviously my tone was flooded with sarcasm. In ‘normal’ situations, he’s come close a few times. Help me out Sergeant, you were there for one of them.”

“Ah, yes,” Ellery leaned back comfortably in his seat. “The ‘it’s just a sprain, let’s not blow things out of proportion’ incident.”

“I’m taking a wild guess that it was  _ not _ just a sprain,” said Kelly, taking a deep drink and relaxing marginally. 

“You, young man, are very astute, don’t let anyone tell you otherwise,” replied Venka. “Nope. Broken arm, from sparring no less, and he didn’t want to make a fuss for the General’s sake. What happened exactly, Ellery, to twig Gherant onto what really happened? He banged it on something?   
  


“No,” the army man corrected, “Lucky for our Admiral, I happened to be there when one of the comms ensigns, tripped, clumsy bastard, and grabbed the Admiral to stop himself. I thought for sure he was going down that time---white as a stormtrooper helmet---but I gave him an arm and we got off the bridge, Gherant being quite quick on the uptake, and making up some meeting the Admiral needed to be at.”

Venka shook his head. “The General heard of  _ that _ naturally. Wish I could have been there for the dressing down that the Admiral received for that. Ah well. Kelly, we diverted again from your story. How in the  _ galaxy _ did he get Henley to let him go? Last I heard he had the fever from hell.”

Kelly was chewing his lip thoughtfully. “He didn’t say it was Henley. In fact I’m pretty sure that he said the  _ medic _ had checked him over and released him.”

Ellery and Venka shared a glance. Kelly picked up on this. “You…..are you saying it’s not  _ true _ ?”

“Oh, I’m sure it’s true, technically, Captain,” said Venka. “But medics are soft and easily manipulated Loth kittens when it comes to the General or the Admiral. And I just remembered that Henley was called away to treat the princess for the same virus the Admiral and half our command staff have had. Naturally the people who overwork themselves all the time are getting it worse.”

“Oh stars,” Kelly groaned. “I should have…..”

Ellery patted him on the shoulder. “Really not anything you can do against direct orders, Captain. Have another drink and let me tell you the story of General Veers and the 52 hour shift.”

“Oh this is good,” Venka agreed, undoing the top latch of his tunic and crossing his legs.. He was feeling remarkably better. Perhaps unburdening about the foibles of their much loved commanding officers should happen on a regular basis. A support group of sorts. 

They all got their drinks refreshed, and Ellery squared himself to the storytelling. 

“It was in that rather...unpleasant period shortly after Hoth and Bespin.””

Kelly shuddered. His own promotion had come on the heels of Piett’s, the new Admiral pulling him aside hours after Ozzel’s death to tell him he had chosen Kelly despite his youth because he had the right disposition. Kelly still wasn’t quite sure what Piett meant, but had been honored and terrified at the same time. 

“Once the General was back on active duty, his focus was on bringing the Herd back to full strength.” Ellery’s tone softened. Venka and Kelly looked at their glasses. They all understood. 

“The thing was, you recall, the ship was still operating on eggshells. None of us knew what to expect from Lord Vader. So the General, as he often does, took it upon himself to keep us all safe.”

“The entire army, sir?” Kelly asked, stunned. 

“The entire ship, Captain,” Ellery answered, taking a drink. “You recall when we all thought we were going to lose the Admiral to Lord Vader?” 

Sober nods.

“Our General had a proper temper at one point when we were running drills shortly after that. Swore something about “not another single soul on his kriffing watch,” words to that effect. “And he meant it. Wouldn’t sleep, barely ate so as to keep an eye on the running of….well, everything.”

“Admiral Piett even went so far as to come down and attempt a direct order.”

Kelly’s eyes were wide at that. Technically, Piett could do that. However, he had never tried it as far as Kelly knew, 

“How…..ah….how did that go?”

“I  _ so _ wish I’d been there to see that,” Venka put in regretfully.

“He had the good sense to do it fairly privately,” Ellery continued. “Just myself and a few others from Walker 5 were in hearing distance. The General pulled himself up to his full height and got within four inches of the Admiral---you  _ know _ how he hates that….”

The other two nodded. Piett was very affable, but his height was still occasionally a touchy subject. And to be loomed over by his friend…..

“And he practically hissed, ‘give me that order, Admiral, and be prepared to throw me in the brig with a court martial. I will not let you, or anyone else on this ship be sacrificed to his Lordship.’”

All of them took a drink at this.

“Me and the other lads got out of earshot at that point, but if I timed it right, those two stared each other down for a good 30 seconds straight. I thought the air was going to burst into flames.” Ellery shook his head again. 

“The sheer power of those two stubborn bastards is really miraculous. I actually think the Admiral briefly considered taking him up on it, because it would have meant the General was marginally safe if he was in a cell. The upshot however, is that the Admiral finally shook his head, turned on his heel and marched out of the bay. And that was a  _ march _ , make no mistake.”

Kelly’s jaw was gaping. Venka chuckled at the memory. “I was on the bridge when he got back from that confrontation. I think we could have powered the Lady on his suppressed rage alone.”

“Well what ended the General’s shift sir?” the Captain asked as the Sergeant finished his drink and sighed. 

“Dr. Henley. Came down and cornered him in his office and threatened to take him off duty for every reason he could possibly think of --physical, mental, you name it. Pointed out that he wasn’t his friend and couldn’t give a single set of damns about his feelings. Our doctor is a very unique individual.”

“That is one word for him,” Venka muttered into his glass. 

Kelly seemed to ponder this for a while. “So, given the current situation….”he began.

“No,” said Venka and Ellery together. 

“Look, Kelly,” Venka told him kindly, “our commanding officers may be all kinds of stubborn, but ultimately we all stand together when it comes to Henley. It’s one thing if the Doctor discovers it himself. It would be base betrayal to go and snitch.”

Venka could tell this was difficult for the younger officer. “Are you really telling me that I should just let the Admiral pass out on the bridge, rather than….?”

“Hasn’t happened yet!” put in Ellery cheerfully. 

“Besides,” Venka said, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “At least when it comes to Admiral Piett, we may have a new weapon.”

Kelly lifted his eyebrows and leaned forward.

“The princess,” stated Venka. “Just trust me on this. If she’s concerned, he just might listen. Not a hundred percent stubborn proof mind you, but she’s  _ potent _ . A word in  _ her _ ear……”

“Has she been tested on the General yet?” asked Ellery with interest. 

“Well, that remains to be seen. However, early indicators are hopeful,” Venka replied sagely, leaning back in his chair. “Now gentlemen, I feel this meeting was a sound success. I would like to propose that we do this on a regular basis.”

“Here, here!” Kelly answered. “I feel I have much to learn from you both.”

Ellery and Venka looked at each other and grinned. 


	32. Anakin and Obi-Wan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anakin has a George Bailey moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started out, intending this to be some fun banter and a slow slide toward these two burying the hatchet. Apparently my brain had other ideas and shoved us into off the cliff into serious land. I did manage to haul us out toward the end, but these two get real with each other.  
> Drabbling around and this is what happened. :) Thanks for reading!

“Oh kriff, don’t you have anything  _ better _ to do?” 

Ankin groaned and rubbed his face with both hands in the hope that it would make the Force ghost in front of him go away. 

“I’m dead, Anakin and the Force has apparently decided that one of the best things I can do is help you as you return to the light.”

“I have living people who can do that! Ones who didn’t cut off most of my limbs!”

“True.” And Obi-Wan looked grieved. “Has it occurred to you, my apprentice, that perhaps these meetings are just as much a penance for me?”

“First--I haven’t been your apprentice since before you died….”

“....you killed me,” Obi-Wan murmured.

“You  _ let _ me, you….. _ not _ talking about that right now. Second, that is a very interesting point.” Anakin paused and looked at the form of his old master. Once again, Obi-Wan was as he knew him in their best days, not as the faded old man, weighted with guilt and grief.

It was both painful and…..not in any way pleasing of course, because he was  _ angry _ with Kenobi….

“Really? How long do you think you can talk yourself into hanging on to that anger?”

“Stop invading my mind!” Anakin flung at him furiously, pitching the hydrospanner he’d been using through Obi-Wan’s middle. 

“That doesn’t hurt me you know, “ he admonished mildly, crossing his arms and leaning against the TIE advanced.

“I know,” Anakin said firmly, “but it helps relieve my feelings.”

“Oh by all means then,” replied his ex-master, waving a hand, “find a few more tools and exhaust your childish tantrum.”

Anakin snorted and instead, seated himself on a crate, looking at the dirt and oil that covered his synthskin. It was much easier to clean real skin, but he still liked to be as close as possible to his machines, and therefore did not bother with gloves. 

“All right, I’ll ask,” he said, snagging a rag to rub futilely at his hands. “How is this a penance for  _ you _ ?”

“I see what you might have been,” Obi-Wan replied promptly, moving to ‘sit’ opposite Anakin on his open tool kit. It was late (or early depending on how you looked at things) and Anakin had made sure to have the Lady keep his bay private while he worked. Nightmares had, once again, prevented his rest, so he did what always relaxed him---he worked on machines. 

He was very tempted to work on upgrading Luke’s X-Wing, which sat silent nearby, but he knew that his son wouldn’t appreciate that, for reasons that Anakin could respect, and thus he worked on eaking out one more degree of speed from his TIE. 

Or at least, he  _ had _ been doing that until guilty Force ghosts showed up. 

“And what is that?” Anakin asked tiredly, suddenly unwilling to snark anymore. Longing for a form of peace that he wasn’t sure he would ever feel again.

Obi-Wan at least, looked equally as tired for someone who was dead.

“A Father. Maybe a husband if things had been different.” Obi-Wan leaned over and rested his elbows on his knees and it was still so kriffing  _ strange _ and familiar at the same time, to watch him with the mannerisms he’d had while living. 

“You had to have known, you  _ must _ know now that we were married,” Anakin told him. 

“I did, given what I knew of Padme’ particularly, and traditions on Naboo,” Obi-Wan replied, clasping his hands and looking up with those intense, clear eyes.

A pause.

“Anakin…...Padme’ was true to you. You…..you  _ know _ that now…?”

And Anakin was surprised at himself when the familiar anger and offense didn’t immediately spring to the fore at this topic. 

“I knew it  _ then _ ,” he whispered bitterly. “I was so easily manipulated by Sidious.  _ Force _ . My wife……” He stopped. 

“How did you not see what Palpatine truly was, Kenobi? Any of you? Yoda? Windu?  _ HOW _ ?” And there was the familiar anger, but he loathed himself just as much. 

“Anakin…..” Obi-Wan sat up, “We were imperfect. We made mistakes---grievous ones. Mine….”

“Yes, I know,” Anakin ground out, standing suddenly and pacing, his energy pulsing through him, “Yours was taking on an apprentice who was too old, too impetuous, the list goes on….”

Obi-Wan was suddenly in front of him, incorporeal hands on his arms. “ _ NO _ .”

Anakin stopped and they faced each other. “Certainly you were impetuous, kriff, you defined the word. Luke is perhaps the only one who could come close….But Anakin. You were not a mistake.  _ My _ mistake was not seeing you as a person, but as a padawan. If I could change one thing about the Jedi order---and I would change many---it would be that. We should never have taken you from your parents. We should have trained you in different ways when you were younger. Protected you from influences like Sidious.”

Anakin gaped at him. 

“Isn’t that some form of rebellious emotion….?”

“I’m dead Anakin, what is the Order going to do? It’s dead too really. I’m…. I’m  _ trying… _ ”

Obi-Wan broke off and turned away and Anakin felt his emotion, even in death. 

“You have owned your choices and your mistakes, Anakin. Surely even now, the least I can do is own mine. In many ways yours is the harder road. You have to  _ live _ with your consequences. I….I have to watch you suffer that way, and see at the same time all that you could have had, if the Order, if  _ I _ , had done right by you and the other padawans.”

Obi-Wan’s face was anguished and for the first time in 25 years, Anakin felt sympathy for his old master.

“You…..you  _ were _ my brother, Obi-Wan,” he said softly. “You didn’t treat me like an object.”

The ghost looked at him sadly and smiled. “I certainly never intended it. But the Order, however well intentioned, was not set up to see you as children first. Not potential Jedi or soldiers, but  _ children _ . And we failed because of that. I failed  _ you _ because of that.”

Anakin moved to his ship, placing his prosthetic hand on the smooth metal of the left wing. “Yes,” he agreed, “you did. And here we are. You, dead by my hand, and me…...I intended to die for my son. Now, I live for him…...but…...sometimes, I wonder if it would have been better if….”

“Easier, you mean?” Obi-Wan asked astutely. “For all those around you?”

“Yes,” Anakin said, looking at his ship and stroking the metal. 

“In some ways, you are probably right. But the thing is…...none of us knows the future. And from what I’ve seen, my young apprentice…..”

Anakin looked up sharply and Obi-Wan was smiling at him the way he used to when he teased him in life, all those years ago when they fought as one in the Force, and Anakin found himself smiling back, and he couldn’t recall the last time  _ that _ had happened. 

“.....the future that is forming here is better for having you in it. Consider if you  _ had _ died on the Death Star.”

Obi-Wan came to stand by the TIE again, hands behind his back, legs apart, just as he did when about to lecture, in an achingly familiar manner. 

“Luke likely would have made it off, but would have had no one to turn to for guidance as he seeks to restore and reshape the Jedi to what they should have been. Your daughter would have been left with a permanently unhealed wound---no opportunity to cleanse the poison in her soul. Could Death Squadron have united as smoothly with the Alliance fleet had you not been there to facilitate that? How many events have you been part of since that day, which could have turned out differently if you had not been there?”

Anakin considered this and was somewhat overwhelmed at the possibilities. Obi-Wan looked at him knowingly. 

“This path is not easy. But…..”

Anakin held up a hand. “You’ve made your point Obi-Wan, don’t head off into the tall grass of Jedi sayings and mystic slogans.”

Obi-Wan  _ grinned _ at him and crossed his arms. “Luke likes them.”

“Kriff, don’t remind me. You’re a  _ terrible _ influence on him.”

“Well, there, you’re proving my point---isn’t it good he has you to balance it out? Balance, Anakin.”

“Are you going there again? Balance was brought, Obi-Wan, let it go…..” but Anakin caught the twinkle in Kenobi’s eye, even dead, and sighed in disgust.

“You’re having me on, you glowing blue bastard.”

“Indeed. I can’t believe you fell for that.”

“All right, we had our bury the lightsaber moment---isn’t it time for you to…..I don’t know, pass on or something?”

Who knew a Force ghost eye roll could be so effective?

“It doesn’t work like that, Anakin. Besides, you’d miss me.”

Anakin picked up a socket wrench and slapped it threateningly. “I wouldn’t.”

“Luke would.”

“You just pointed out he has me.” 

“I haven’t spoken with your daughter yet.”

“Think you’re ready for that do you?” Anakin asked dryly. “Care to explain yourself to her?”

“Mmm, you’re right, that might need to wait.”

“Obi-Wan,” Anakin groaned, “I just want to work on my ship……”

“Very well. Anakin….”

He looked up from his tool kit.

“I’m glad you lived.”

And he disappeared. 


	33. Not in time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Veers can't get there in time. And the aftermath

Veers gazed around at the men surrounding them. The girl had been a lure then. He glanced at Piett who shook his head slightly. Solo and the rest of their men were still back in the heart of the city. However…..their second wave had conveniently dropped out of sight the moment the slavers had appeared, and Veers was distantly proud of their excellent training. 

“This is a rather huge mistake on your part,” Piett informed the leader of the group calmly. “I will give you the opportunity to surrender now, because I promise you, I will not have any mercy from this point.”

Piett’s voice was chilly in a way he only had for people who sold sentient beings as slaves, and Veers once again appreciated the durasteel spine of this man.

The slaver seemed both impressed and amused. “We have you surrounded,  _ Admiral _ . But we’re so very honored to have you back in these regions again. It gives me the very great pleasure of killing you myself.”

And time slowed.

The man brought his blaster rifle to bear on Piett’s chest.

Veers was moving even as he watched the trigger finger turn white as it tightened.

Red death spat from the rifle.

And the Admiral,  _ his friend, _ was hit center mass, flinging him back several yards, to lie unmoving, a small trickle of blood oozing out of the corner of his mouth. 

Then chaotic hell erupted as the second wave of the 501st opened fire on the slavers and Veers was raging to get to his friend’s body amidst the fighting, then…...nothing. 

***

_ Mimban officials had reached out to the New Republic due to an upsurge in slaver action. It seemed a new faction was challenging the Hutts and various systems were suffering. Kidnappings abounded and families were torn apart from Mimban itself all the way out to Dressel. _

_ Lord Vader had a special hatred for slavers----one he shared with Admiral Piett and the two of them had been working for some time to create an anti-pirate/slaver force, much like the one with which Piett had begun his career.  _

_ Accordingly, Piett had volunteered to take a force to Mimban, both to offer aid, but also to train some of Mimban’s local forces to hunt and eliminate the slave trade.  _

_ Veers had not needed the princess’s sharp look his way during that meeting to join the mission, but he appreciated her support all the same. More surprising was Solo’s adamantly expressed desire to go with them as well. Piett had been pleased if slightly puzzled, but acknowledged that the smugglers’ experience would be very useful.  _

_ Solo had muttered something about needing to repay his debts, though to whom, Veers wasn’t sure.  _

_ And so they took one of the Gozanti class cruisers along with 500 men of the 501st while Solo accompanied them in the Falcon.  _

_ The officials of Mimban’s largest city had been very welcoming, almost falling over themselves they were so grateful.  _

_ But corruption was rife out here and apparently the need for ships and weapons to support this foul enterprise had led to their call to the New Republic. A Gozanti cruiser and the two TIE fighters it carried would be worth it indeed.  _

_ It was Solo who had first been suspicious, and had offered to remain with half the men when a frantic young woman had come to them with horrific tales of kidnap and slaver action in the outer limits of the city.  _

_ Piett and Veers were also skeptical, but unwilling to just ignore her story. So, they had agreed that they would follow in two waves.  _

_ And it was just as well that they did, when a large force of the slave ring---nearly 100 men strong---had moved to surround them.  _

***

He was reaching for the rifle…..

If he could just hit the arm holding it, shift the trajectory…….

Red fire lancing forth……….striking his friend’s chest

Slight body, crumpled on the dark earth…..crimson line working its way down his face….

Veers came to consciousness with a gasp. It was dark, where he was. Cold dampness was spread on the walls and there were things on the floor that didn’t bear thinking about. It smelled musty and foul, but the General didn’t care. 

Piett was dead.

All these years, and his friend had died within his reach. Veers hadn’t been by his side, he’d been behind him when they were ambushed.  _ Why hadn’t he been by his side? _

Shot in the chest by a kriffing slaver. He’d survived Lord Vader’s worst rampages, numerous violent star battles, being poisoned and nearly killed by an Emperor’s hand, only to die on some backwater world at the hand of the worst scum in the galaxy.

Veers felt pain in his own chest equal to that of blaster fire. It was sharp and jagged and he recalled this pain well. He’d felt this when his wife died and later, his son. But he was clearly a prisoner and he could not afford to mourn yet----to show weakness.

He tried to listen for hints as to where he might be. How many men were present, but the walls were thick, made of muddy clay mixed with cement and he had no idea how long he’d been down here.

_ Come on, dirt pounder, options? _

And the voice in his head was the Admiral’s. How many times had Piett said that when living?

“All right, I’m pondering them, just…….you’re  _ dead _ .” And Veers’ chest crumpled in on itself all over again.

_ So kriffing get up and figure out how to take down the bastards that did it then! _

“I would if I could figure out where the hell they have me. Some sort of cellar perhaps? Hasn’t been used recently, obviously. Perhaps we’re still in the outskirts?”

_ Very possible. And don’t forget, Solo’s still out there with a very large number of our best men. He’ll be looking for you.  _

“True. He’d know the sort of holes to look in as well. I’m wondering if it was his idea or the princess’s to come along.”

_ Mmm. He seemed pretty passionate about it personally. He’s had dealings with the Hutts. Though you’re right, she is very capable of suggesting it. _

“The  _ princess _ . Oh  _ Force _ , how am I going to tell her, Firmus?” And Veers turned to hit the wall hard, accomplishing the feat of badly skinning his knuckles for his trouble.

_ A sigh. I don’t know, General.  _

“I’m going to find your…..your body and bring you back. Son of a Hutt, it wasn’t supposed to  _ be _ like this!!”

He paused, his breathing harsh and echoing in the room around him. He gripped his damaged hand, just to feel the pain, to let it ground him and distract him from the way that his whole being wanted to implode. 

_ You have to keep going. You can get through this. You have before. Iron Max, remember? _

“Damn it, Piett. If I wanted a pep talk, I’d ask.”

_ Amused. No, you wouldn’t. But I’d likely give you one anyway---not directly necessarily, but I’d find a way. _

“I miss you,” Veers whispered. And then light was streaming into his prison and he squinted as several forms came down. 

“Up you come, General! We have a few questions!”

And he was hauled up a short flight of stairs into a large and decrepit room where Piett’s murderer waited for him.

Veers lunged for him the moment he spotted him, but four men had him and he ended up on the ground with boots to his ribs for his efforts. He coughed and rolled to his hands and knees, acutely conscious of the rifles pointed his way. 

Veers took in as deep a breath as he was able with the broken ribs. Then he raised his head and stared his tormenter in the eye. 

“Listen you kriffing bastard, you can crawl back under whatever rock you were festering under. As far as I’m concerned the diseases and plagues of this galaxy are worth far more than all of you slavers combined.”

He was aware he was sounding his most ‘Imperial’ which was bound to anger his captors further, but Veers had such cold hatred for this profession--so called---that he was far beyond caring. This creature had shot down his friend in cold blood. Veers wanted to rip him apart with just his hands. 

The man laughed. “Well, I’d like to say I’m offended but we appreciate rocks to hide under out here, so…..tie him up!”

And Veers found himself bound to one of the mouldering wooden supports in the room. There were holes in the roof, through which he could see grey sky.

“Now,” said his captor, “we’re rather keen on that ship you brought with you and it would be a lot simpler for everyone if you gave us the command codes for it, so we don’t have to cause too much damage to it.”

Veers scoffed at him. “Well then you murdered the wrong man, didn’t you, you brainless Bantha sack? I’m army---the Admiral would have been much more useful. No, scratch that, he would have told you to go to hell, and I think I’ll stick with that answer too.”

The man’s face darkened. “Well then maybe we’ll just enjoy beating you to death then, to make ourselves feel better.”

“By all means, untie me and I’ll make it more interesting.” Veers glared and looked up as a shadow passed over the roof. Was that…..?

“We aren’t that stupid, General. And as you’ve pointed out, honor doesn’t mean much. I think I’d just like to beat you. If you feel like telling me the command codes, I might even let you die.”

And he stood, picking up a metal bar as he did so. Veers braced himself----it wouldn’t be long, he could handle it…...when a Hoth cold voice stopped the man in his tracks, using familiar clipped tones that Veers would know anywhere.

“But honor does mean something to me, so I’ll let you reach for your blaster before I kill you.”

The man gaped over Veers’ shoulder and proceeded to do exactly that…..

…. And fell back with a smoking hole between his eyes as Piett moved into the room, methodically, and with deadly skill, shooting the rest of the men frantically attempting to bring their weapons to bear. 

And then the rest of the 501st were behind the Admiral, and it was over before it had begun. Piett was pulling out the knife he kept in his boot for away missions and with a quiet, “One moment, Max” he had sliced through the ropes at Veers’ wrists. Faintly, the General thought he heard heavier fire outside and Piett answered his puzzled look.

“That would be General Solo in the Falcon. This happens to be one of their major bases of operations. Solo is ensuring it becomes the local landfill.” 

And Veers was staring at his friend--- _ his very much alive and smiling friend _ \---as he stood before him, holstering his blaster and looking at him inquiringly.

“Are you injured anywhere, Gener----?” but Veers cast his reputation aside, and pulled Piett into an embrace which the startled Admiral returned after a second, patting him lightly on the back. 

“You were  _ dead _ ,” Veers told him, releasing him so that he could look at him again. And in examining him, there indeed was the blaster burn in the center of his chest. Piett was moving carefully as well.

His friend smiled widely at him. “I would have been that’s true, if I hadn’t decided to take my friend’s advice and wear a cuirass. I’m just not as ostentatious about it as the army likes to be.” And Piett unlatched his jacket to reveal a top of the line Imperial cuirass with impressive scoring and a large dent in it. 

“Still hurt like hell and knocked me out cold. I think I have a few cracked ribs, which by the looks of things you do too.”

Piett’s face grew more sober. “I’m sorry we didn’t get here sooner. I was unconscious until an hour ago, but Solo was magnificent---the princess will be very proud. Got here with the cavalry and your boys did everything you trained them to do and more.”

Veers was just happy to hear his friend’s voice, but he also wanted to get out of this hellhole and motioned to Piett to lead the way.

“Does this mean you’ll listen to me more often now, Firmus, when I give you advice?” he asked as they watched the cruiser come in to land nearby. 

Piett rolled his eyes and snorted. “You mean when you give me orders like one of your new recruits, General?”

Veers waved a dismissive hand. “Semantics.”

Piett was eyeing the hand and made a grab for it. “What did they do to your hand, Veers?”

It did look nasty in the light of day. “That was self inflicted when I punched a wall. Don’t worry about it.”

“You punched a wall?” Piett’s lifted eyebrows said volumes.

“You were dead. No judgments.”

His friend's hazel eyes softened in understanding, and he snagged a medkit off of one of the medics.

_ How many people could claim they got their hand taped up by the Admiral of the Fleet? _ Veers reflected, watching Piett’s neat and careful work. 

He was going to have that cuirass hung on his wall. 


	34. Padme'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Multiple thoughts at Padme's tomb

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought I'd give this a try tonight. More sombre mood

It was time---they had all mutually agreed upon it, whether it was the will of the Force or for other unknown reasons, all of them knew that it was time. 

Accordingly, it was decided that this would also be convenient for the head of state to visit Naboo in official capacity. 

So the Executor hovered above the lush planet in all her elegant glory while several shuttles made their way to the capitol city, Theed, in order to fulfill several missions.

The first was the state visit and this was what most people in the crowded plazas and wide roads were here to see---waving flags and greeting Mon Mothma and her official party with warmth. 

The second was to discuss trade and thus, the merchants of the planet were very excited for potential new clientele.

The third mission was unknown to all but the tiny handful of people who were carrying it out. Their shuttle landed on the outskirts of Theed and the occupants made their way to the broad green lawns and flowering trees that surrounded the massive royal gravesites. 

Padme’ Amidala was waiting.

  
  


**ANAKIN**

He had only managed to be here once before. It was too painful, his harsh, regulated breathing in the mask reverberating around the vaulted arches of the stone crypt, reminding him that he was an intruder. He had glimpsed her tomb from the other end and promptly turned to leave. 

Now, he walked slowly up the marbled floor to where she waited under the massive stained glass window, depicting her in her glorious queenly dress. The colors danced upon the floor and across the faces of the people behind him as they approached. 

But the stone carving upon her tomb was closer to the girl he remembered. Mon Mothma stepped forward and placed an exquisite wreath of white Chandrilan roses at the base of the tomb. She briefly placed a hand on Anakin’s arm before she turned. She had much to do still and did not wish to intrude further on the family.

Anakin could feel his children giving him space, marvelling at the beauty of this….chapel really. He did not like the word crypt. It spoke too much of death and mouldering decay. But the chapel was reverent, warm with her presence, in the beauty of the architecture and the small gardens and fountains that surrounded the tomb.

None of that mattered to him. He knelt beside her. The likeness was so accurate it was painful, but balm at the same time. He gently touched the cold cheek. 

“Hello, my Angel,” he whispered. “I have been too long away. And before…...before I was not your husband. I am that once more.”

He bowed his head, his chest tight with pain. He looked up again, this time at the colorful window keeping watch over him. The sun was slowly moving in the sky, and a blush of pink crossed the stone face before him. 

“I…..our children are here. You and I were both correct, my love, a boy and a…..a girl.”

He could see her sweet smile in his mind’s eye. Occasionally, Leia would smile in just a certain way and a ghost of his wife could be found there.

“I have done so much damage, Padme’,” he told her. “I can never atone. But…...I can at least beg your forgiveness. And because I know you, I know you gave it.  _ Force… _ ..I don’t deserve it. But you would not be who you are if you did not forgive. Luke is so like you in that respect.”

He paused again in gratitude. 

“Leia looks like you----so beautiful. But she has struggled as I do. My fault. But she is healing, my love. She is here. All of us are here……”

And it was true in a way. And yet the cold stone under his hand belied that reality. Anakin rested his forehead on her stone hand and wept.

  
  


**LUKE**

This building was so stunning. How stone could project such warmth and calm was remarkable. And he loved it immediately. He could sense that his Father needed to be alone right now. He and Leia, stood a ways back from the tomb, toward the center of the chapel and gazed up at the massive 3 story window portraying their mother. He placed an arm around his sister’s shoulders as they looked at the color which was washing over them. Leia leaned in and kissed his cheek, and then moved to join Han as they looked at the smaller paintings on the walls of the chapel all depicting scenes from their mother’s life. 

_ Hello Mother, he thought.  _

Padme’s eyes were as luminous as his sister’s and he couldn’t draw his fascinated gaze away from her. So much color!! Tatooine had been an endless stretch of nearly white sand and hot blue sky. But this window was a riot of stunning shades. Luke liked that he could hear fountains all around as well and feel gentle breezes from the covered courtyards around the main chapel. 

_ I…..can’t say I really missed you, Mother. Until now. This place…..I feel as though you’re here.  _

_ I know you weren’t Force sensitive. But you are loved by all of us and we are. Do I sense you? _

_ Father says I am like you in spirit. He would know---I hope you approve.  _

Luke sank onto one of the stone benches. If he closed his eyes, he could imagine a small feminine form sitting beside him with her arm around her son. He breathed deep and smiled. 

  
  


**LEIA**

She moved slowly around the beautiful space with her arm looped in Han’s. He respected her mood and was silent, gazing with keen interest at the rich paintings of her mother. Leia was fascinated. She had pored over holo images and records of her mother. Had managed to listen to five minutes of one of Padme’s senate speeches before she broke down hearing her mother’s voice. But that was all different. Being here, on her mother’s home world…...there were many similarities between Naboo and Alderaan, which Leia was finding both painful and marvellous at the same time. 

_ I wish I could hear that voice now. I wish I could have heard it as a child.  _

“What is this one depicting?” Han asked quietly as they paused on the right side of the chapel. Leia looked more closely at the painting. As many of these types of works were prone to do, the imagery was somewhat glorified and her mother was clad in white, standing nobly in the center of a war zone, blaster rifle held at the ready as she commanded…….were those Jedi knights?

And Leia realized……

“It’s the beginning of the Clone Wars,” she told Han. “I know she was present when they began. Dooku had captured her and……”

_ And her Father _ .

And she found herself looking for him in the painting, knowing she wouldn’t see him. Their relationship had been a secret after all. She glanced up at the front of the chapel. She could feel her Father’s grief, but she was not the one he needed right now. Luke rose from where he had been quietly meditating and moved to stand at Anakin’s side in front of the tomb, placing his hand on their Father’s shoulder. 

_ Thank you, Luke she sent.  _

_ Always _ . 

“Sweetheart,” Han said, interrupting her thoughts. “I have to go. Are you going to be alright?”

Han was part of the delegation discussing trade routes----not something he was particularly thrilled about, but he was doing for her, both due to his knowledge of shipping routes and also because he loved her. 

“Yes,” she told him, kissing him deeply. He turned and walked away with his loping stride.

Leia moved to the last painting on this side. It was simple. Padme’ was looking out over Coruscant, holding her pregnant stomach, and clad very simply, but Leia thought she looked the most beautiful in this painting. 

“Mother,” she whispered. “You’re so lovely. I wish I could ask you so many things…….”

Her heart felt very sore. 

  
  


**VEERS**

He had stood at the entrance to the large chapel and watched the family proceed to the front. He had barely been out of the academy when Padme’ Amidala died and a Sith Lord named Darth Vader had come upon the galactic scene. 

He recalled the news and the broadcasting of the funeral. It had been a massive event--all the major names from systems all across the galaxy had come to pay homage. More likely, he thought cynically to show their willingness to flatter the new Emperor who was also from Naboo. 

Veers glanced to the side and made his way to one of the small courtyards that housed several lovely fountains. This one also had some gorgeous beds of millaflowers---one of Naboo’s most prized exports.

Myra had loved them. When he remembered to be thoughtful, he would bring her a bouquet while on leave. Their heady scent filled the small area and he closed his eyes against the assault on his memory.

_ “Max! You shouldn’t have. They’re so expensive.” But she was so pleased, her green eyes sparkling over the tops of the burgundy flowers.  _

_ “What else shall I spend my pay on, my love?” _

_ And a sudden grip around his knees. “Daddy!” _

Veers opened his eyes, steadying himself. He moved closer to one of the fountains and admired the smooth marble work in its sculpting. He allowed himself to dip his fingers in the water and marvelled when he realized there were brightly colored fish swimming around in it. 

Zev would have loved that. 

It was perhaps a mistake to come here. His breathing was tight.

“General.”

He turned at the voice of his commander, and wondered if his face bore the grief that was evident on the husband of Padme’ Amidala. 

“My Lord.”

The ex-Sith moved to stand at his side, also watching the little fish. 

“How many years has it been?” he asked after a moment and Veers knew what he meant.

“Sixteen, my Lord.”

“It does not get easier with time, does it General?”

Grey eyes met blue. 

“No.”

They were silent together and Veers was suddenly grateful not to be alone. Further, to be with a man who knew the grief that he knew.

  
  


**PIETT**

He took off his hat as he entered---it felt appropriate. He could see Skywalker up at the front, but the rest of their small group must be dispersed around the chapel.

He was part of the official delegation on this trip, and had just spent several hours getting his hand wrung and being peppered with questions about the nature of the New Republic fleet. 

He had been informed however, that he was to come here as soon as he was able. That he was  _ wanted _ . And that. That had been…..well, he supposed that families felt like that. He had joined the Axxilan fleet at a very young age. Yes, he had wanted to, but it was also out of necessity. His mother couldn’t afford to feed them all and as the only boy, he’d had to make his way. 

He didn’t resent it. But it did mean that these were uncertain stars for him to navigate. Happily for him, Skywalkers were not given to subtlety.

_ You’ll join us later, Admiral? His commander made it quite clear it wasn’t a question with that direct blue gaze. _

_ Of course, added the princess, with her customary pat to his arm, I want you to see her, Admiral. _

_ And Skywalker just looked knowingly at him in that annoying Jedi manner and smiled.  _

He was very impressed with the stunning glass window. But he still felt slightly like an intruder, and was grateful to spot a courtyard to the side of the chapel that seemed to be filled with green plants. 

As he loved his miniature tree collection, this seemed ideal and he walked in, inhaling deeply of the fresh earthy scents. There were no flowers here, just numerous green shrubs, vines and grasses and he enjoyed making a circuit, touching them lightly. 

He had been on his feet a great deal, and ended sitting on the bench in the middle, looking up at the delicate carved arches that met over his head. 

_ Such care and love had gone into the design of this place. He had seen other graves, humble and magnificent, but the clear love the people had for this young queen was very evident. _

_ He was still trying to wrap his head around the idea that she had been the wife of Anakin Skywalker. _

_ He could clearly see the physical resemblance in her daughter. And given what he knew of the princess, what a woman her mother must have been.  _

Piett smiled to himself.

He didn’t hear her come in, but suddenly she was there at his side. She didn’t say anything, and he looked into eyes that were dry, but wounded beyond tears at the moment. 

“My dear girl,” he said and put his arm around the slim shoulders as she leaned into him. 

“I’m glad you’re here,” she said, and they sat like that for a very long time. 

_ It was nice to be wanted. _


	35. Piett reflects on Veers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a little piece that takes place during All the Sith's Men, after Veers was badly injured in sabotage incident with the AT-AT.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What can I say? I just love their friendship. And for whatever reason my own mood has been reflective lately. I promise I'll do some lighter prompts soon too. But I must admit to indulging myself with character pieces. :) 
> 
> Thank you as always for reading. :)

In the two years of knowing him, Piett could think of two, possibly three, times that he had seen the General so still. 

There were people who were said to resemble calm ponds. There were others who were compared to stormy skies. Other people whose presence was like being in the warm sun.

Veers, even when standing perfectly still, managed to give off the aura of an endless energy source. It was that strength and purpose that fuelled it---perhaps he could be compared to the engines of the Lady. 

But this------this was different, and not in a good way. 

Henley had assured Piett that his friend would recover---that they had won the battle for his life 36 hours previously. Somehow though, Piett didn’t know if he could quite believe that until Veers opened his eyes. 

So he came here each day after his shift ended. Typically, Piett hated spending time in sickbay, but he was more than willing to keep a vigil over his friend, especially with a saboteur on the loose. 

He smiled as a large steaming mug appeared at his shoulder, the spices familiar and comforting. He took it carefully.

“Thank you Ellery.” 

The big army man gave him a salute. 

“Happy to take over for you, sir.” The Sergeant was always respectful, but Piett could hear the undertones—

_ Take a break, Captain.  _

He had tried it several times over the last few days and Piett’s answer had remained the same. 

“Thank you Ellery. About an hour before my next shift I’ll take you up on that.” 

The Sergeant sighed longsufferingly. “Yes, sir.”

Piett sipped at his tea as the doors to sickbay hissed shut once more.

And he contemplated the General of the Thundering Herd. A tall man who had six inches on Piett’s own height. 

_ Seven, whispered Veers’ voice in his head. _

Someone who, by all accounts, really shouldn’t be the friend of a short navy Captain with utterly no illustrious attributes to his name, other than those he had earned himself. 

The galaxy saw the ‘Iron General’. The Imperial echelons saw the Core world heritage and breeding. The military saw the brilliant tactician and ruthless commander. 

Piett had seen all that too. But he had seen more, even at the very beginning of their friendship. Possibly it was because he looked for things besides the obvious physical attributes or perks of reputation and breeding, having never had those advantages himself. 

He had seen a man who was scrupulously fair. 

A man who was incredibly tough on his troops, but didn’t expect of them anything that he didn’t expect from himself. 

An army man who had taken in a navy Captain he barely knew-- to literally give him food and medical attention. Veers liked to claim he had no heart. He was very good at projecting that certainly. 

Piett shifted slightly, the blaster he was wearing digging into his hip uncomfortably. A reminder of why he was sitting here in the first place. 

He had seen evidence of that heart in many little things. 

_ Veers looking at the holos that one of the commanders had received recently from home. They depicted three smiling freckled and toothy faces.  _

_ “They’re getting so big sir! I think my oldest will be my height by the time I visit.” _

_ Veers had smiled, and Piett had seen something in his eyes. _

_ “I’m sure, Commander. Looks like a great family.” _

A month or so later, Piett had learned about the General’s wife and son, dead for some time now. 

_ Coming back from a mission planetside, and Veers was walking by a grav sled containing a young ensign who had been badly injured. _

_ The General was covered in dirt and blood himself ---(thus, why Piett had managed to be present in the bay---he’d read the preliminary report Ellery sent, and it didn’t matter that he had been in bed. He’d thrown on a uniform and hurried to make sure that Veers wasn’t a serious casualty.) _

_ \---but he was walking by the young trooper, who was going to lose the leg, no question, and gripping the boy’s trembling hand firmly. _

_ “You’re going to be all right. I promise you---would I lie?” _

_ The boy had shaken his head, his eyes fixed on the General. _

_ “It will be just fine, Dawley, the doctors have you now. I’ll see you later all right?” _

_ The trust in the trooper’s eyes. “Yes sir.” _

_ And Veers had lifted his own battle weary face to meet Piett’s eyes. _

_ “Looking a little rumpled there, Captain.” He knew why Piett was here. _

_ “Says the man covered in half the planet,” Piett had responded, but smiled in relief.  _

He watched the rise and fall of Veers’ chest, reassured by the steady rhythm and wishing once again that the General would open his eyes and tell him off for worrying. 

Piett had never in his life had anyone all that interested in his work in the Axxilan anti-pirate forces. All that interested in  _ him _ to be honest. But Veers had genuinely wanted to know, especially when he had spotted one of Piett’s more interesting scars when they were sparring.

_ “That’s a rather extensive scar, Captain,” Veers said, gesturing to Piett’s forearm.  _

_ Both of them were in their short sleeve undershirts, but the rest of the uniform in place. They had agreed early on, that when fighting in a real situation, they were highly unlikely to be in gym attire and thus, they worked with their uniforms. Uncomfortable certainly, but worth the effort if it saved their lives.  _

_ Piett wiped his forehead and rolled back to his feet. The white lines extended from his wrist to his elbow. It had healed cleanly but was a nasty injury to begin with. _

_ “Yes, well, that represents my learning experience with a Ranth.” _

_ He had moved back in ready position, but Veers had paused and given him a look Piett couldn’t interpret.  _

_ “I assume this was in the pirate hunting days, then?” _

_ Piett straightened, realizing that Veers wanted to know more and moved to grab his water bottle.  _

_ “Yes. I was a green lieutenant. Perfect for sending in first so the more valuable officers could take down the ring while they were trying to kill us. The fact that I was short actually saved my life in that instance. Otherwise his swipe would have ripped my chest open. I got my arm up in front of my face just in time.” _

_ Veers moved to stand near him. “What was the end result of that mission, Captain?” _

_ Piett paused. “We took out the ring. Managed to mostly come out of it alive.” _

_ “Mostly?”  _

_ “Our Commander was killed. It was quite chaotic for a while there.” _

_ “Who took charge?” the General asked knowingly, and Piett flushed.  _

_ “I did. I was the only officer alive and conscious at that point, that’s all.” _

_ Veers had snorted. “Yes, that’s all. Sheer dumb luck. And you did that with your arm ripped open?” _

_ Piett had shrugged. “You did what you had to. You would have done the same.” _

_ Veers had put his hands on his hips and stared at him. “Maybe. I need to hear more of these tales, Firmus, you’re holding out on me.” _

_ Piett had tried to wave it off. “It’s really just….” _

_ “Just nothing. My friend is one tough son of a Hutt and I want to hear more.” _

And he’d hauled Piett to one of the officer’s lounges, bought a round and insisted---nearly  _ ordered _ \----that the Captain tell him about his early career. 

And the healing that was to Piett’s soul…..well. 

He’d told himself that his career was worth it. That it wasn’t his mother’s fault she couldn’t support him and his sisters. That he’d been for all intents and purpose, an orphan, but so had others and they made it. That the slights and difficulties he’d had in being from Axxila were part of the cost. The solitude….

And the universe had handed him a six foot three friendship in the form of Maximilian Veers. And since the universe had decided on that course of action, Piett had made a decision of his own.

While he still drew breath, so would the General. That was the law, and he would defy any force in the galaxy, up to and including the Emperor. 

Because Veers was his friend. 


	36. Veers reflects on Piett

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This got a little rambly. But Piett is quite a complicated soul and Veers has lots to work on. :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes place shortly after the end of He Who Sheds His Blood with Me

The thing was, Veers reflected, you tended to forget that Piett was not all that tall, even when you were with him. He had watched Piett face down and cow men who had a ten inch height difference on the Admiral, with a cold hazel stare. 

How many times had they all seen the Admiral and the Dark Lord standing side by side on the bridge? And Darth Vader dwarfed everyone, but when Piett turned to rap out a command to the Pit no one was thinking about their height difference. 

Veers was well aware that there was some amusement regarding the friendship between the short Admiral and the tall General, but it was all good natured. 

And anyone who equated diminutive stature to easy take down was always in for a nasty surprise. Even Jedi. 

_ “Just so we’re clear,” Piett said, hands on his hips in the middle of the mats, “no Force using, Commander. And I’ll know. I have worked with your Father for some time. Also, I’d rather not get flung 500 yards. Not as young as I was.” _

_ Luke Skywalker smiled that sunny grin of his as he moved to face the Admiral. _

_ “Absolutely sir. But General Veers insists that you can teach me a few things. If you’re feeling however, that our age difference is an issue…..” _

_ Veers shook his head over on the side as Piett shot him a small grin.  _

_ “Thank you for the condescension, Skywalker, I think I’ll be all right. Now what sort of hand to hand training have you had?” _

_ “A small amount really,” Skywalker admitted. “I can usually rely on the Force when I need to.” _

_ “Hmmm.”  _

_ Veers was going to enjoy this so much.  _

_ “All right, well then, let’s just see what you have shall we?” _

_ Piett had barely finished speaking when the young Jedi was coming for him…..and found himself on his back trying to get air, with Piett’s knee on his chest.  _

_ The commander coughed and rolled to the side as Piett let him up. _

_ “You’re telling me exactly what you’re going to do like a homing beacon,” Piett told him with a disgusted shake of the head. _

_ The younger man was fast, Veers gave him that, as he went for a tackle at the Admiral’s knees. Piett sidestepped that almost contemptuously and twisted Skywalker’s arm up behind his back. _

_ “Really, what sort of training did the Rebellion have? How to stay alive in a bar fight? Dubious even then…..” _

_ Skywalker lunged and ended up on his back again, Piett’s strategic foot placement giving him a neat little trip.  _

_ The Jedi stayed down, panting and eventually smiled up at the Admiral.  _

_ “All right. I concede. You’ve properly put me in my place. Care to teach me?” _

_ Piett gave him a hand up. “The man you want to ask is sitting over there, Commander.” _

_ Veers put his hands up. “As though I have time right now…..” _

_ “I could work with your troop training, sir,” Skywalker said eagerly and what the kriff was it about that open expression that made people want to work with the boy? _

_ “Yes, General, he could do that,” added Piett, with his most bland look, but eyes dancing with mirth. _

_ And so Veers found himself adding a Jedi to his training roster.  _

The amount of sheer stubbornness contained in that small stature was also legendary. Veers wasn’t sure what gave the Admiral such drive and determination, but he could guess at it, through the bits and pieces that Piett occasionally let slip about his origins. 

Close as they were, Veers was very aware that the topic of his childhood and youth was still rather raw for Piett and the General didn’t push. When he was ready, he would tell him, of that he was confident. In the meantime, Veers deduced much from Piett’s actions.

He had no patience for bullies of any kind, and had even stepped in to defend a smaller boy from several bigger ones once when they were on shore leave together. The uniform helped no doubt, but his ‘take no prisoners’ attitude was very obvious in the set of his jaw. 

The other children had fled down an alley, and Piett had knelt in the dust of the road to wipe the boy’s bloody nose. The child was one of many street urchins---the sad truths of so many planets---and had scampered off. 

It was a default for Piett to assume that what he did was not all that interesting to others. Veers was working on  _ that _ . 

He absolutely  _ never _ let his clean Core accent slip. Veers knew he must have worked very hard on that, and could think of only two times that it had even come close to revealing Piett’s Axxilan origins. One was that terrible time he’d been so badly injured on Ambria and didn’t have the strength to maintain his accent.

The other had been the day he’d been promoted to Admiral, and it was the only time he’d seen Piett anywhere close to properly sloshed after the horrors of Bespin. 

These things, and more, did not piece together a very nice background story. And by all rights, Piett should not have turned out as he had. Many with his background became the pirates and criminals that Piett had hunted. 

But his friend had been determined to be more. Worked with more dedication than anyone Veers had ever known to prove that he had a right to be where he was. 

Everyone around him agreed he had that right---had earned it many times over. Whether the Admiral had convinced himself…...well. 

Veers was certain that some of the habits Piett had were the Admiral’s way of compensating for things he never received. It was those things that made Veers want to grab him sometimes and force his friend to see just how superb a human he was. 

Piett made sure to  _ know _ his crew. Of course he couldn’t know the names of 300,000 men, but he made sure to know who was on his bridge. He knew his deck chiefs and the chief engineers. He knew all of Veers’ senior officers. If he was inspecting an area of the ship that he wasn’t as familiar with, Piett was up late the night before looking at the names on the duty roster. 

He listened, whether it was a report from a stumbling green ensign, an engineer with a good idea or Veers himself----Piett did not blow people off. He looked them in the eye and gave them his attention. The Admiral likely didn’t know the kind of impact such an action had on people, but Veers saw it and the Executor had the best, most motivated crew in the fleet. 

How often had Piett been passed over and ignored? Veers had seen some of that himself during Ozzel’s command. Clearly his friend was determined that his men would not be demeaned, but respected. 

And then there was just his…..well, just what made him Piett. Veers was on his way now to the huge engine bays because he knew that Piett was there, inspecting the repairs needed after the shock wave from the Death Star had hurled the Lady through space. And that was all well and good, but this was also his first day back on duty, having argued strenuously with Henley and won. 

What the Admiral was doing at the moment was not scheduled. It was just what he did ---he wanted to see that his ship and his crew were recovering. Veers was going to make sure that their Admiral did the same. 

He entered and easily spotted his friend due to the large amount of personnel that were surrounding him. Piett was deeply interested in whatever the chief engineer was telling him, standing together with the man on the platform near one of the Lady’s immense engines. He had that small furrow of concentration between his eyes that he got when he was focusing intently. 

He lifted his gaze as if he felt Veers watching him and he smiled and turned to thank the chief, shaking his hand and making his way down the steps. Veers waited patiently as Piett was waylaid by men wanting to shake his hand and express their appreciation for their commander who had, after all, saved both their ship and themselves. 

Finally Veers decided to intervene. Piett had been on his feet for at least fifteen hours by this point--- _ not _ the recommended work shift for someone who had a punctured lung not that long ago. 

“Admiral,” he said authoritatively, and the men made space for Piett to reach him, a few more pats on his back were bestowed and then Veers managed to steer them toward the lifts. 

Piett looked a little rumpled but deeply pleased, and had clearly appreciated the crew’s response to him. 

“That was kind of you,” Veers told him. Piett waved a hand. 

“After that blast, I appreciate all the work they’ve done to keep us going.”

“I hope you saw there, that the crew feel it’s mutual.”

Piett flushed. 

“They were…..well…”

His friend was utterly rubbish with compliments.

“So,” Veers was casual, but he was going to hold the line. “I hope you didn’t have anything planned this evening.”

Piett narrowed his eyes. 

“I have a rather large stack of reports on my desk actually…..”

“I’m sure you do. As do I. However, I have already ordered dinner for us and informed your aide that you have finished the paperwork for today. Ah, no I’m not done!” 

Veers put up a hand as Piett opened his mouth. 

“My understanding from Henley was that he authorized you for  _ light _ duty. Today was not that, Admiral friend of mine. It would be….unfortunate if the Doctor found out you’ve been on your feet this long…..”

Piett gaped at him in betrayal and almost didn’t exit the lift when it came to their deck. 

“We have an  _ agreement _ when it comes to Henley’s dictatorial….”

“Of course we do,” Veers agreed as the doors to Piett’s quarters hissed open and the two of them were greeted with the inviting scent of food. 

“And I wouldn’t violate that------ _ provided _ that you are done for the day and will be going to bed the moment we’re done with dinner.” 

“You’re blackmailing me,” the Admiral accused, but there was no real heat in it as he unlatched his duty jacket.

Veers sat down in one of Piett’s chairs, consciously allowing his friend to be taller for a moment. 

“No, Firmus, I’m just doing what you are exceptionally skilled at doing for other people, and utterly terrible at doing for yourself.”

Piett gazed at him for a moment, then huffed slightly and sat down opposite him. 

Veers allowed himself to be amused at the fact that his slight friend provided more of a challenge to him than any of his hulking commanders and sergeants.

He wouldn't have it any other way. 


	37. Anakin and asteroids don't mix

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What do you get when Anakin pilots a shuttle with Piett?

“Compensate for the heavier gravity!” his commander ordered over the scream of failing engines. 

“I’m trying sir!” Piett shouted back, “the damage is extensive to the stabilizers.”

“All right….” Anakin was wrestingling mightily with the lambda’s controls. “See if you can reroute power to shields. I’m going to try and bounce her!!” 

Piett moved to obey, fingers flying over the console, even as his gut churned. 

“When you say bounce…..”

“I know what I’m doing, Admiral, don’t question me!” 

“Of course not, sir!” Piett shot back, “Just clarifying how many pieces I’ll be ending up in, sir!” 

“There are times Piett, that I think you forget….. _ kriff _ .” And the shuttle lurched heavily to the port side. 

“Our port engine appears to have failed completely, my Lord.”

Anakin shot him an exasperated look. 

“I thought you were better than stating the obvious, Piett.”

“It’s that or swearing at you sir, and even now, you’re still my commanding officer.”

They were entering the atmosphere now, and Piett could see the heat streaking over the external panels of the shuttle. 

“Have you tried communicating….?” Anakin began.

“I’ve been trying every 2 minutes sir!” 

Below them they could see the landscape coming closer---scrubby brush and rock formations, dotted occasionally with hostile looking trees. 

“One more time, Piett! Then brace yourself!”

Piett hit the transmit button one more time, sending their location and emergency signal and praying the Lady got it in time to pick them up from the inevitable crash. 

He could see that his commander was aiming for a dry-ish river bed with what was left of the control in the shuttle. 

“Brace yourself!” Anakin yelled……

….and they impacted the earth. 

  
  


******

  
  


The smell of burning fuel and scorched metal woke him. He could feel something hot and wet trickling down the right side of his face and raised a hand to touch it. Blood. He moved his head off of the control panel and felt the gash near his temple. That was not pleasant, but he didn’t think it would kill him either.

Still, he felt dizzy and nauseous which meant concussion. 

Suddenly the sheer weight of their circumstances crashed into his mind. 

_ An old Clone Wars mine hidden in the asteroid field, which his lordship had insisted on navigating for the ‘challenge’ of it.  _

_ The subsequent explosion and damage to the shuttle when they were still five hours from the Lady. _

_ And crashing on this Force forsaken planet….. _

_ His commander.  _

Piett fumbled with the safety harness and managed to free himself, stumbling over to Anakin’s still form.

_ Please be all right, please…. _

He felt for a pulse at the man’s neck and breathed out in relief. 

A relief he didn’t feel for long as he realized simultaneously that the shuttle was burning, and that his commander was bleeding heavily from a shrapnel wound in his side. 

Moving swiftly, Piett managed to kick out the remaining shattered view screen and then got his arms underneath the ex-Sith’s and pulled. 

Kriffing  _ hell _ the man weighed more than the shuttle. Given how much of him was durasteel, he supposed he shouldn’t be surprised. 

Something behind Piett exploded, and adrenaline gave him the surge needed to shove Anakin out and down the nose of the shuttle while he himself dove after him. He didn’t pause, even though landing kriffing hurt, and he pulled his commander as far as he could before the shuttle went up completely. 

Piett groaned and rolled to a sitting position, watching as the lambda burned merrily. 

Well, magnificent. He was stuck with an unconscious commander who was three times his weight, no way off planet, and no communications capability.

He turned his attention to the wound on the former Dark Lord’s side. Happily, Anakin’s shirt ripped more easily than Piett’s uniform, so he used that to field dress the wound. Then he rose and looked at the surrounding landscape. 

Sparse and unforgiving, but he would need to find them shelter. The only thing worse would be if…..

Yes, those were rain clouds gathering in the distance. Of course. 

He eyed the rocky outcroppings above the river bed they were currently in. The slight amount of mud in the bottom had undoubtedly saved their lives. Had they hit harder, Piett was quite sure they would not be here. 

Of course, at the moment they were equally screwed…..

Well, nothing for it. 

The Admiral got his arms under his commander’s once more and dragged him across the dust and mud into the shade of the overhanging bank on the other side. 

_ Water was going to be an issue too.  _

First things first. He needed to find some sort of shelter. He removed his hat and gloves and stuck them in his pockets and then began the arduous task of climbing up the steep slope to the slightly more level ground near the rocks. 

His bad knee was screaming at him by the time he made it to the top, and he paused for a moment to catch his breath. He could just see a black boot below him. He would have to hope that this planet didn’t have some nasty predators he didn’t know about. 

He moved along the rock face, looking for any kind of overhang or, more ideally, a cave to shelter them before the rain really broke. He could smell it on the air now, and it brought promised refreshment but also promised cold. 

There. What was that?

He stumbled toward the outcropping. It wasn’t very big, but it had a good vantage point over the river bed and surrounding vista. It would have to be enough.

_ Are you really complaining about finding shelter at this point? _

And that was Veers in his head. 

“No,” he told the voice indignantly. “I’m just pointing out the fact that one of us is going to get wet.”

_ You’re a navy man. That shouldn’t be an issue.  _

“In the  _ stars _ .”

Honestly, imaginary Veers was just as impossible as the real one. 

He scrambled gracelessly back down the bank, coating his uniform with most of the mud available, and hurried to where he had left his commander. 

Anakin was still unconscious. Naturally. 

_ Get on with it, Firmus. You spar with me, you can handle this. _

“I don’t have nearly your muscle mass, Veers.”

But he once again began the drag, the urgency of the impending storm, spurring him on. 

Getting up the bank was…..well, mostly unprintable, and Piett was glad that Anakin was unconscious for that part both due to his wound and his Admiral’s language. 

_ Outer Rim mouth there, Piett? _

“Hypocrite there, Max.”

He managed to heave and shove Anakin’s large frame under the meagre shelter he had found as the first big drops began to land on the parched earth like artillery. 

Piett just sat and breathed for a moment, the cool air and the rain combining to relieve him momentarily. He watched as lightning flung itself across the sky and lit up the area with strange shadows. Hopefully this would provide water for them and he would go looking when it was over. 

Now however, he was starting to get soaked and he was keeping his back to the rain, and facing inward to watch over his commander. He crossed his arms against another shudder and his fingers brushed his code cylinders. 

_ His code cylinders… _ …

He might be able to jury rig them into a homing signal.  _ If _ the Lady received their last transmission, and  _ if _ they were looking for the downed shuttle, he could try and speed that process up. 

And he should do it before his fingers became too numb. 

_ I was wondering when you would think of those. _

“Were you really? I doubt that.”

Piett used the fading light and the flashes of lightning to work as quickly as he could and was rewarded at last with a small little red light blinking at him. 

The rain poured on. He was well and truly miserable by now. He reached over once more to check his commander’s pulse. Still strong, so that was something. Hopefully him being unconscious this long didn’t mean a more serious head wound, but Piett wasn’t sure. 

_ You’re not missing Henley are you? _

“No. Maybe.”

He shifted again and leaned his head against the rock face. Checking to make sure that his jury-rigged homing beacon and his commander were dry, he closed his eyes. 

  
  
  


***

He slept fitfully on and off. He jerked when he thought he heard an animal, but it was usually rocks or tree branches falling. 

Morning light brought…..more rain. Had they landed at the start of a monsoon or something? That was not a pleasant thought. 

Piett was soaked through already and so ventured out to look for something he could carry water in. The river bed was transformed into a proper river now, churning in chocolatey mud and debris. At last, Piett had the idea to line his hat with some broad leaves he’d found and just sat outside their shelter, allowing it to fill with cleaner water than that of the river, before turning and trying to get some into Anakin. 

And at last,  _ at last, _ the former Dark Lord opened his eyes. 

“My Lord?” Piett asked. “Do you recall what happened?”

Bright blue eyes looked at him blankly for a moment. Then Piett saw the realization hit him. 

“We made it then.”

“We crashed.”

“But we walked away,” Anakin returned weakly.

“ _ I _ walked away. You decided to be unconscious.”

“It seems to me, Admiral, that you are being a bit pessimistic. Is the shuttle….?”

“It exploded, my Lord.”

“Ah.”

Anakin shifted and Piett stopped him. “You were wounded, my Lord.”

“And you look drowned, Piett. If I sit up, you can get under here as well.”

The Admiral decided not to point out that he would still be soaked regardless, and moved to join his commander under the outcrop, careful to keep his small homing beacon safe. 

“What is that, Admiral?”

“I thought I would try and assist the crew in locating us, sir.” 

“Good thinking, Piett.” 

The smaller man sneezed. 

“Oh marvellous. Not only will I receive hell from Luke about crashing a shuttle, my daughter will try to kill me with glaring because you caught a cold.”

“My apologies, my Lord, I’m sure,” Piett responded loftily. “I’ll endeavor not to next time.”

“Next time, Admiral?” Anakin asked with a little smile. 

“Fair point. I’m never getting in a shuttle you’re piloting again, my Lord.” 

Anakin chuckled. “Never say never.” 

A pause. 

“Do you think they received our transmissions?” Piett asked, trying to suppress the shudders now rippling through him. 

Anakin focused in the distance. “They did.”

“How do you…..?” Piett realized just who he was talking to and hope speared through him. 

“Should we try to find a location to meet them, my Lord?”

“I’m afraid Admiral, that my wound aside, my prosthetic leg is damaged as well.”

“I could help you, sir.”

He didn’t fancy another trek in the rain, but at least this time, Anakin would be able to help him. 

The former Dark Lord looked down at him with a look Piett didn't know how to interpret. 

“You would, Admiral, but I am afraid that you don’t have the resources at the moment, having used them to get me here in the first place. We will wait. They are coming.”

Piett leaned his head back on the stone behind them and tried not to focus on how very wet he was---it felt as though he could wring out his bones. His shivering was irritating and he was starting to see two of his commanding officer…….

_ Shuttle engines... _

_ Veers? “Quite the spot you found for yourselves here” …. _

_ “Concussion...moderate hypothermia”…. _

When Piett could focus again he realized that he was almost suffocatingly warm and shifted irritably to move the mountain of blankets he found himself under.

“I think not, Admiral,” said a voice he wasn’t expecting and Henley’s exasperated face came into view. 

“Why?” Piett blurted and became aware as well of a large hand on his shoulder….Max. 

“If you are asking why _I’m_ here, that should be obvious even with your concussion. Lord Vader and the Admiral of the fleet crashed a shuttle...”

“ _ I _ didn’t crash it,” Piett told him, offended. Above him, Veers snorted. 

“...if you’re referring to the blankets,” Henley continued uncaring, “you were hypothermic and you are already sporting a lovely fever, so. The blankets stay. The same goes for you, my Lord,” he called across the shuttle. 

Piett turned his head to see his commander sitting on the edge of the medical bunk next to….Skywalker who was looking both strained and amused at the same time.

“I have the Force,” Anakin told him dryly, “and I wasn’t hypothermic.”

“No, you just decided to impale yourself on the shuttle.” 

Veers and Skywalker sighed at the same time. 

“We have another four hours to the Lady,” Veers said, looking down at him. “Go to sleep, Firmus.”

Henley stalked to the back of the shuttle to get something and Anakin looked over at his Admiral.

“Piett.”

Piett didn’t mind the blankets so much, and Veers was a steady presence at his side, and he was so very tired, but he focused on his commander.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, my Lord.”


	38. The early days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Veers manipulates Piett into storytime

“...it wasn’t the Rodian so much,” Solo’s voice was saying, “but the Gamorrean. Didn’t expect him to move that fast to be honest.”

Veers moved further into the officers’s lounge, Piett trailing behind him, engrossed in something on his data pad. 

“What did you do?” Captain Kelly asked, young face eager as he sat at the table with the Corellian who was playing his weekly round of sabaac with Venka. 

“Shot him in the knee, used him for cover and took out the Rodian.”

Venka chuckled and laid out his hand.

“That was quick thinking, General.”

“Hey in my line of work that was crucial or you were dead.”

“And that line of work was….?” Veers asked dryly from behind him, motioning over the bar droid. 

Solo swivelled in his seat.

“Ah General Veers, Admiral.”

Piett looked up briefly. “Solo.”

“I am reformed now of course,” Solo said grandly, “and I smuggled because I had to, you may recall.”

Veers put in an order for both his and Piett’s drinks as the Admiral was clearly occupied, and then drew up a chair for his friend, nudging him into it and trying not to roll his eyes. 

_ A break, Firmus, means ungluing yourself from the ship’s operations for ten minutes. _

“Oh yes. Purely necessity,”put in Venka, smirking and taking a sip of his own beverage. 

“Hey, I had standards, Venka! Absolutely no spice or slaves. I wasn’t going to perpetuate  _ that _ .”

Piett looked up at this statement, brow furrowed. “I should think not, Solo. I would have gone after you myself if you had.”

_ And yes, this topic was important to his friend. _

“What do you mean sir?” asked Captain Kelly. It was not often that the Admiral was with them all like this. Veers decided to nudge the conversation as the droid arrived with their drinks. He changed them around, handing the stronger one to Piett. This was an opportunity after all, and it was time that other people appreciated his friend’s past as much as he did. 

“Yes, Admiral, not everyone here is aware of your wild youth,” Veers stated with a grin, pulling up a chair for himself. 

Piett snorted and leveled a raised eyebrow and challenging look at him.  _ Are you really pushing me into this? _

Veers stared back impassively. _ I absolutely am. _

“Hey, I’m all for hearing about this,” Solo encouraged. “I was under the impression you all were born in uniform.”

Venka groaned, likely having heard this before too many times. Kelly looked as though he wasn’t sure if he should be offended.

Piett smiled slightly however. “I was in uniform at 16, Solo, so despite what my colleague would have you believe, my early days weren’t all that wild.”

“I didn’t think you could be that young in the Imperial Navy sir.” 

_ Ah, Kelly you don’t know how helpful your naivety is sometimes. _

“I…...wasn’t in the Imperial Navy at that point, Captain,” Piett replied, shooting Veers a slightly uncertain look. 

Veers raised his eyebrows.  _ Go on, Piett. _

“Oh  _ really _ ?” Solo asked, having not missed their exchange. 

_ Are you actually just the smart mouth you would have us believe, Solo? Or are you giving me a hand here in my endeavor? _

Piett shifted slightly in his chair and set the dat pad on the table.

_ Veers-1 Piett-0 _

“I ahem, I started my career in the anti- pirate forces for the Axxilan fleet.”

Venka left his cards alone and stared. “Sir, I didn’t know that.” 

“You didn't think he was the kind of marksman he is from standing on the bridge of a Star Destroyer, did you Venka?” asked Veers offering his friend a small salute with his glass. 

“Well….it’s just. You were so young! And that’s really dangerous work…” Venka’s voice carried new respect. 

_ There was the flush. _

“Well, I learned a lot from older, wiser heads,” Piett said evenly, taking a sip of his own drink. He grimaced slightly and looked sharply at Veers.

_ Just go with it Firmus.  _

“By which he means, he watched them get shot off and he stepped into the role,” Veers said, determined that he would get a story out of his friend if it killed him. 

Piett sighed at his glass as Kelly leaned forward.

“Sir, I would love to hear a little bit about your experience…”

“Absolutely,” encouraged Solo, “I’ve known for some time you were one tough son of a Hutt, how far back does that go?”

Kelly coughed his drink at hearing his Admiral addressed as such to his face, and Venka patted him firmly on the back. 

But Veers was pleased to see Piett’s mouth was quirking.

“Well….I had just made Lieutenant,” Piett began. 

Kelly settled back in his chair, eyes fixed on his commanding officer. Solo tapped the table for his drink to be refreshed and Venka folded his arms on the table leaning forward. 

_ Veers-2 Piett-0 _

“We were sent to deal with a suspected spice ring. The thing was, at that time our own forces were rife with corruption, so it was a bit of a gamble whether we would actually break up the ring and make arrests, or get shot by our own men who were in on it.”

“The Axxilan force has the best reputation for being incorruptible today,” Venka said, puzzled. “How….?”

“Well,” said Veers before Piett could speak, “they finally had the good sense to put an officer with sterling integrity in charge and he cleaned house, so to speak.” He tilted his head toward Piett, who was flushing again.

“Indeed, job well done sir,” said Venka smiling. 

_ Veers-3 Piett-0 _

“Thank you Venka. Anyway, their base of operations was an abandoned space station near Ord Cestus. It was decided that myself and the three other green lieutenants would lead the initial boarding parties and secure the landing platforms for the bulk of our men to land.”

_ You were disposable. _ Veers didn’t like that thought.

“Apparently, Lieutenant Fredryks felt the pay was better from the spicers, and his crew turned on mine the minute we had cleared the outer doors.”

Piett took another drink. “That was my first real experience with all out slaughter and….well, you never really get used to something like that.” 

The three older men all nodded, but Kelly just looked thoughtful.

_ Long may you not see that, Captain _ , thought Veers. 

“I only escaped because I was hit in the side and went down early. When I came to, I was under the body of a trooper. Probably saved my life---they must have assumed I was dead.”

This story was new to Veers as well. “How old were you, Firmus?” he asked quietly.

Piett’s eyes met his. “Nineteen,” he answered briefly. 

Venka let out a surprised noise. 

“Again, one…..grew up rather fast out there,” Piett said, trying to wave it off. “At any rate, I managed to get the poor bastard off of me and gather as many of their rifles as I could. They were going after the other lieutenant’s party---I think his name was Trent.”

He paused, remembering. 

“I  _ should _ have tried to communicate with our main forces, but all I could think was that I didn’t want Trent’s forces to be annihilated like mine had. So I attacked them from behind, gave Trent enough time to rally a bit and between us, we took them down.”

“Good job then,” said Solo, smiling.

“Ah, the thing was, General, you may recall we were there to get the spicers. So we survived the treachery in our ranks, but almost forgot about the gang we were supposed to arrest.”

“What happened, sir?” Kelly was fascinated, and Veers hid his smile at the hero light shining in his eyes as he watched Piett. 

“I had my first encounter with a Gotarite.”

All of the others cringed at that. The overgrown mole like appearance of the species was rather disconcerting and they were notoriously violent, thus why they were often recruited by criminal gangs. 

“I had sent Trent to communicate with the main forces and open the landing bays while I and my men kept our landing foothold secure. The Gotarite dropped on me from a vent above. Learned to always have one of my crew on ‘vent duty’ after that.”

_ So that’s where that directive for away missions had come from.  _

Solo was curious. “I’m going to guess, Admiral, that you were likely outweighed there. How were you able to survive that?”

Piett made a face and took another drink. “You’ve seen their teeth?” 

The Corellian nodded.

“It bit me in the shoulder, but it’s teeth got caught on one of the blaster rifle straps I’d slung over my back. That gave me time to draw my knife and well….”

“You must have a scar from  _ that _ ,” commented Venka, speaking at the same time as Kelly who asked “You had a knife?” 

“Oh he still does, Captain,” Veers answered for his friend. 

Piett gave him a quelling look. “Beside the point Veers,” he said, but Veers could tell that Solo and Venka were filing that little bit of information away, while Kelly looked as though Piett had created the stars. 

“And yes, Venka it was not a pleasant experience, so I do have that scar. The point of all of it was, that I think that mission gave me more learning experience than a whole year of training.”

“And did you break up the ring?” asked Solo. Piett finished his drink. 

“We did, General.” He rose and snagged the data pad. “Well thank you gentlemen, but I have an exceedingly important meeting to get to.”

“Would you mind telling her highness that I’ll be here when you’re done?” Solo asked knowingly. “And she’s going to try and get you on her side about what I did with the Falcon.”

“Solo,” Piett gave him one of his best Fleet Admiral looks, “I am  _ always _ on her ‘side’ as you say. Good evening.”

The doors had barely closed behind him when the other three men pinned Veers with their eyes. 

“You’ve known this whole time?” Venka accused.

“Rather vague there Rear-Admiral.”

“What my Imperial friend is trying to wrap his head around,” said Solo, “is that our Admiral of this fleet is a kriffing tough bastard.”

“Always so eloquent Solo,” said Veers with a raised eyebrow as Venka helped pound Kelly’s back through another round of choking. 

“But yes, Venka, to answer your question, I am aware of Admiral Piett’s... capabilities.”

“How many more of those stories does he have?” asked Venka.

“He served on the anti-pirate force for ten years. You should ask him.”

Veers rose as well. “Well, I’ll also call it a night. Gentlemen.”

He smiled to himself as he left the lounge. 

_ His friend was indeed a kriffing tough bastard. And now a few more people appreciated that. _


	39. Leia's lightsaber

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So I am apparently capable of letting our people have an actual break from intensity and adventures that nearly kill them. ;)
> 
> Thanks as always for reading! :)

“Here,” her brother handed her the silver cylinder without ceremony, but grinning widely. 

She took it carefully, looking at the details. “It’s heavier than I expected,” she told him, experimenting with holding it in her right hand. 

“Yes,” Luke replied, “I remember thinking the same thing when I made mine. But, you get used to it.”

“Where did you find the kyber crystal?” she asked, running her fingers over the grooves in the metal. 

“I went to Jedha,” he said softly. 

She looked at him knowingly. “Are you all right Luke? The Force echoes there…..”

The twins were silent for a moment recalling the lives lost there after the test of the Death Star which had leveled the ancient city. 

“I actually think it helped to find your crystal. Forged in suffering and destruction---it was the right one.”

She gave him a quick hug. “Thank you Luke.”

“Turn it on,” he ordered, smiling again and stepping back. 

Heart pounding slightly, she pressed the button and her blade sprang into brilliant life. 

It was a glowing white.

“Interesting,” commented her brother. 

“Why?” she asked, unable to take her eyes off of it.  _ Her blade, shining like a young star…. _

“Well, everything I’ve studied about Jedi and their blades says that the color will adjust once they’re connected, fitting each individual.”

She swept it through the air, liking the warm vibration in her hand through the hilt. 

“Ok, and?”

“Well, mine is green. Father’s is red, though I feel like it is slowly changing. I’m keeping an eye on it.”

She placed both hands on the hilt of her weapon and moved herself into a challenge stance. Luke laughed but his own blade ignited in response. 

“So why is mine interesting?” she asked him.

“Well, I’m not aware of another white blade. I should ask Father about it.” 

“It reminds me of the Lady,” Leia said, pleased by the thought for some reason. 

Luke advanced and she brought her weapon up in defense. Their blades crackled together before she swung her arms around and released, deftly stepping to the side of her brother, the tall turquoise grasses of the field swishing at their knees. 

“How long before we need to meet up with the others?” Luke asked, circling her warily. 

“We have another hour.”

They were currently orbiting a small planet which had expressed interest in joining the New Republic. Mon Mothma was leading a delegation to discuss the nature of their agreement. The planet’s location would be a very strategic one on which to have a spaceport located, so they were interested in pursuing an agreement. 

Luke had met them here, coming from Jedha, and he, Han and Leia were taking advantage of the generous offer officials had extended to come planetside for a bit of rest. 

Leia had protested that she should be part of the delegation, but both Mon Mothma and Piett had insisted that she needed this break. 

_ And really, it had been lovely so far _ , Leia reflected, crashing her blade into her brother’s once more. 

Han was sprawled under one of the huge ‘singing’ trees on the edge of the field, enjoying a nap, while the Skywalkers sparred under a warm sun, the smell of the grasses around them, pleasant in the afternoon. 

Luke launched himself over her head, flipping to land behind her as she spun to face him. 

“Show off,” she told him. 

He shrugged and attacked.

Leia allowed herself to relax fully into the Force, enjoying the stretch of her muscles and the exertion she put into attacking her brother. 

_ Could it have been like this? If Anakin Skywalker had listened to Obi-Wan. If he had trusted others with his fears for the future…. _

_ Would she and Luke have learned to do this as children? _

_ She and Luke…..they could have grown up together. Perhaps on Naboo. Yes, there would have been a war and a Rebellion. But what if Anakin had not been twisted and manipulated by that eternally damned Sith bastard? Would he have fought by their side?  _

_ Would their mother have lived?  _

_ Would they have stories about growing up like other families did? The ‘remember the time dad burned the nerf steaks?’ or ‘how about the time Leia brought home a rancor baby?’ sorts of tales?  _

_ Could she and Luke have had younger siblings?  _

_ And they would have wreaked havoc for their parents with their Force abilities and had the best time playing together…. _

_ ….perhaps fighting evil together, side by side.  _

Luke danced out of her reach again and she growled in frustration. 

“Try a flip,” he encouraged. “I know you can!”

_ I’ll give you a flip, brother of mine. _

She gathered herself and leapt into the air--Luke prepared for her attack--but instead of a flip she cartwheeled in the air, extending her body and using one foot to kick her brother’s sword hand, loosening his grip and then she used her blade against his, flicking it out of his grasp and into the air.

She called it to herself, straining slightly, and landed gracefully in front of him, a lightsaber in either hand and crossed toward her brother. 

“Well.” He placed his hands on his hips. “Who’s the show off now? Where did you get that idea?”

She grinned and shut off their blades, allowing him to call his back. 

“I’ve been practicing that move with the General. Not with lightsabers obviously…”

“I’ll have to tell him how effective it was,” Luke said, his pride in her evident. “You thoroughly beat me.”

“Are you saying I slept through you handing Luke his ass?” Han’s disappointed tones sounded behind them. 

She laughed and turned to him. “Sorry nerfherder….”

A periscope shot up suddenly from the tall grasses accompanied by a pleased sounding ‘blat’.

Luke rolled his eyes. “Really Artoo? Whose side are you on?”

“What did he say kid?” Han asked, drawing Leia to him. 

“He recorded it apparently. Artoo…..”

“All right, short stuff. Viewing later on,” Han said approvingly. 

Artoo rolled out, droid satisfaction oozing from every circuit, beeping and twittering as he came. 

“Yes, yes, we’re all impressed with your stealth,” Luke told him as they made their way back to the city and a waiting shuttle from Executor. “Yes, I’m aware that Threepio is not good at it, but that’s a pretty low bar for comparison…..”

  
  


_ On the other hand, Leia reflected later as their shuttle came to rest on the Executor, what **wouldn’t** she have if things had been different?  _

_ She wouldn’t have met Han, teasing her at the moment, but warm, calloused hand holding hers firmly.  _

_ She wouldn’t know how strong a Wookie hug could be, not to mention how loud.  _

_ She wouldn’t have had anything to do with the two Imperial officers waiting to greet them as they disembarked---wouldn’t see Veers’ quick grin her way as Han recounted her success over her brother, wouldn’t be in the arms of an Admiral who still looked surprised and pleased when she gave him such reminders of who he was to her.  _

_ She would be a different person entirely. And that person might have been great, perhaps not have suffered the traumas and difficulties that she had. It was a life that she could have had and sometimes wished she did.  _

_ But her story had gone this way. She had suffered and battled. She had hated her father and overcome that. She had gained a brother and a lover. She was learning that her power was a good thing ---to defend what she loved.  _

Leia gripped her new lightsaber in her pocket. This was her life and these were her people. Force help anyone that challenged that. 


	40. Introduction to a Lady Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Due to some rather.....unfortunate circumstances, a few more people need to know about the Lady.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it's me, stress free happy times can't last too long. But some of you have noted that a few characters really need to know about the Lady now. I agree.

The senior officers filed out of the Admiral’s conference room and Piett stood still, allowing himself a moment to just breathe. It had been a difficult few months for broad and varying reasons. Not one, but two different engagements with various remnants of the Imperial navy, had left a mark--- not only physically. An unfortunate uptick in tensions between former Imperials and rebels was ongoing throughout the fleet. 

Added to that, while they had plenty of rations, it had been some time since they had been able to acquire fresh fruit and meat in quantities needed for the whole fleet and resentments were building. There was apparently the impression that Executor made sure to get all the best things, though Piett had determined that when they did get fresh food it went to the other ships first---to avoid precisely what they were being accused of. 

More scuffles and fist fights were breaking out on ships across the fleet, and unfortunately, many of them needed stiff disciplinary action. This particularly didn’t sit well with former rebels who were not as used to operating within the stricter standards that Piett had insisted upon. 

He rubbed his forehead again. He did  _ not _ need another migraine. He felt like the one from a few days ago was still hovering. 

The Lady flickered at him and he looked up. “Thoughts Lady?” he asked. His data pad, sitting on the table in front of him, showed a holo image of the princess. He smiled. 

“I agree, that would be lovely, but she is currently putting out similar fires on Home One and won’t be over for a few days.”

The Lady showed him pictures of fire and flickered.

“Ah. Yes, another expression. It means we are trying to calm down the tension in the fleet. The….emotions are the fires I suppose.”

An image of Skywalker’s astromech spraying General Madine with fire suppressant popped up. 

Piett coughed and convulsed, sitting down for a moment to gather himself. 

The Lady dipped her yellow light at him. “Yes, thank you, Lady, that was perfect. Not that I approve of you fraternizing with that damned droid by the way, but…... _ stars. _ I’ll need to show that to Veers.”

He sighed. His bridge shift was about to begin. He had barely been able to see Veers in the last week, things had been so tense. All of Executor’s senior officers were doing their best to help their people. He had appreciated the ex-Rebels who were coming alongside them as well---Captain Antilles had been doing an admirable job with the flight groups, and Rieekan had been communicating with Veers to help smooth things for the army. 

He stood once more and put on his cap and gloves, checking swiftly to see that he looked like an Admiral even if he didn’t feel like it at the moment. 

He strode out into the corridor where he was met by his aide who silently handed him a mug of tea and some pills. He raised an eyebrow at this.

“What are these, Dawlish?” 

“Sir, Doctor Henley told me in no uncertain terms sir, that I should have your migraine medication to hand after every meeting at the moment.” 

_ That old rancor may be impossible in many ways, but he knew his people. _

“Thank you Dawlish.” Piett took both items and swallowed the pills quickly before he stepped onto the bridge. 

He acknowledged the ‘Admiral on the bridge’ and moved to stand at the end of the walkway near Captain Kelly. 

“Report please, Captain,” he said, hoping he didn’t sound as strained as he felt.

“All ship shape sir,” Kelly replied and Piett appreciated that he was astute enough to see that the Admiral was mostly business today. Sometimes, he and Kelly would exchange some conversation, but this was not that day. 

“I have the bridge, Captain,” he said and Kelly saluted and left. 

Piett allowed himself a moment to focus on the stars outside, trying to draw on his inner reserves, before turning and beginning his prowl. Veers was due to meet him here shortly in order to update him on the situation below decks from his personal perspective---obviously not something he would share in the meeting they'd just had.

He was grateful that all was operating as it should be--he didn’t think he could quite handle one more issue on top of everything else. 

He was reading Mon Mothma’s input on the situation on his datapad when he felt a light tap on his shoulder.

_ He really was slipping if he didn’t hear Veers come onto the bridge. _

“General,” he said, smiling for what felt like the first time in too long.

“Admiral,” Veers returned, giving him a similar smile.

_ Every successful naval commander should have a Veers---one automatically felt as though things could come together if he was there. _

Both men turned to the view outside and moved away from the pit for more privacy. 

“Well, what’s your take, Veers?” Piett asked, rubbing at his forehead.

His friend peered at him intently. “Did you take your meds for that?” he asked. 

“Am I that transparent?” he sighed. 

“Only to me, Admiral. And only because Henley keeps offering them to me. I don’t get migraines.” 

Piett gave him a slightly amused look. “Really? So that one time….?”

“A fluke,” Veers replied, waving a dismissive hand. 

“Right.”

“Anyway, I sadly don't have much time. I did have some thoughts however. One of Rieeken’s staff suggested a memorial service for all the crew we lost in the last two engagements and I think, given what I’ve observed, it would be good for all of our people to be together for that…..”

“Veers!” 

_ Who in the nine hells had the **audacity** …..? _

Piett turned with a horrible frown for the offender….. And found himself staring at an anguished looking officer  _ pointing a blaster at his friend. _

Veers had turned with him and froze. 

The whole bridge was silent, staring in horror. 

“Five of my best friends died at Hoth, you Imperial bastard! And I’m done pretending we can just play nice with all of you murderers.”

  
  
“Your answer to that is to become a murderer?” Piett asked calmly, taking a step forward.

“ _ Firmus _ ,” hissed the General. 

The man twitched the muzzle toward him.

“I have no quarrel with you Admiral, even though you’re on the wrong side.”

“I am afraid I have a quarrel with you---you’re pointing that blaster at my friend. And I was under the impression we’d rather demonstrated that we’re on the  _ same _ side, commander.” 

_ Well here was that one more issue they didn’t need. Force damn it.  _

Piett could see the armed guards near the atrium bringing their weapons to bear. 

“ _ My _ friends are dead at his hand!” 

And Piett knew somehow that the man would pull the trigger. Could see quite clearly that the guards wouldn’t have their weapons to bear in time so he closed the distance….

….and stepped to the side as the former rebel pulled the trigger. 

“No!”

That was Veers. And then a metallic shriek crackled through every station on the bridge, causing the crew to clap their hands to their ears in agony just before the would be murderer was impaled with pure energy sparking out of the console closest to the man. 

He fell to the deck and the awful smell of charred flesh drifted over them. 

Piett noted this distantly. Was it the migraine medication? He felt…..odd. He coughed and something hot and wet was coming out of his mouth….

His knees hit the deck, and suddenly Veers was there. Trust Max, he was always there. Good man. 

“ _ Firmus _ . No, I’ve got you...get medical up here right now, damn you!” 

Scrambling feet and voices in the background. Piett focused on the grey eyes of his friend. 

“You’re  _ afraid _ ,” he commented, surprised. “I’ve never seen that bef….” he coughed again.

“Stop talking, Piett.” The General’s hand was coated in blood.

“Is…. that….mine?” he asked, puzzled. He really wasn’t feeling any pain, but his breathing was so difficult….Veers’ face was out of focus…..

“Stay with me, Firmus, keep breathing…. _ please...” _

  
  


****

“Veers!” 

His friend turned, his face fixed in a look that meant disciplinary action, and paused. Veers turned as well.

_ On top of everything else they had been dealing with, now some idiot with a grudge? _

“Five of my best friends died at Hoth, you Imperial bastard! And I’m done pretending we can just play nice with all of you murderers.”   
  


_ Oh yes, because you weren’t shooting back or anything you hypocritical kriffer. _

  
“Your answer to that is to become a murderer?” Piett asked calmly, taking a step forward.

_ Don’t you dare, Piett. _

“ _ Firmus _ ,” he said between clenched teeth.

“I have no quarrel with you Admiral, even though you’re on the wrong side.”

“I am afraid I have a quarrel with you---you’re pointing that blaster at my friend. And I was under the impression we’d rather demonstrated that we’re on the  _ same _ side, commander.”

Veers glared at the hand Piett had behind his back, making a ‘stay there’ motion. 

_ Not likely, Piett. _

“ _ My _ friends are dead at his hand!” 

And Piett was moving….

Veers followed….and the blaster fired. 

Piett twitched and then ---the Lady. 

_ Holy kriffing hells the Lady just….she ...well he knew she was capable of it. Still... _

The body of his would be assassin lay smoking on the floor and for one second, Veers thought they may have just got away with this one.

Until Piett went to his knees. 

Veers was behind him before he could hit the deck. 

“ _ Firmus _ . No, I’ve got you...get medical up here right now, damn you!” 

_ How far over was that awful red stain? And he was coughing up blood…. _

Piett was studying him in a strangely detached way, as Veers held him carefully.

“You’re  _ afraid _ ,” he commented, surprised. “I’ve never seen that bef….” he coughed again.

“Stop talking, Piett,” Veers snapped, ripping open his tunic to see the large red stain beneath.

_ Please, Force no…. _

Around them the bridge was eerily quiet as the crew anxiously watched. 

“Is…. that….mine?” asked the Admiral looking confused as Veers placed his bloody hand over the wound in his friend’s chest. And he could see Piett losing the battle with consciousness, hazel eyes glazing over….

_ Where the kriff was Henley? _

As if summoned, he heard the thundering of feet behind him and he pleaded with his friend even as Henley dropped to his knees on the other side, scanner already out. 

“Stay with me, Firmus, keep breathing…. _ please...” _

  
  


****

Veers watched Venka pace from one end of the gleaming white sickbay to the other, pause and then pivot to return once more. 

Veers was too numb to pace. Henley hadn’t even bothered to speak with him, his only focus on the Admiral, bleeding out in front of them. 

He sat now in the fourth hour of Piett’s surgery and stared at his blood covered hands--quite literal here---as if they held some answers. 

He had vague memories of comming Venka to get over to the Executor, and he was reasonably sure that Kelly had the bridge. 

He wondered if they had cleaned up the body the Lady had left. 

Did one use a mop for the blood? Or did droids have different methods?

It took him a moment to realize that small hands were holding his, and he raised his gaze to huge brown eyes, already searching his face for answers.

Right. He’d contacted her too. 

“You will be honest with me, General, and direct.” She took a breath, “will he live?”

“Your Highness,” he told her, “I just don’t know.”

She gave a little nod and rose. He looked back at the floor and didn’t even flinch when she returned, having found a cloth somewhere, and proceeded to clean his hands. She tossed the bloody rag under a chair and sat beside him, taking his hand in hers. 

Venka paced on. 

Veers realized that Henley was with them when the princess’s grip on his hand became almost painful. 

The doctor looked as though he’d been dragged behind a Star Destroyer. He also looked satisfied.

“You should bear in mind that if it were anyone else as his surgeon, he wouldn’t have made it. Thankfully, you have me. And I am not anyone.”

Veers felt like he had turned into water. The princess still had his hand trapped in a death grip, but she spoke in a voice of supreme calm. 

“So your prognosis, doctor?” 

“He’s too soon from surgery for bacta yet. Another three days and then we can do that. I’m going to keep him under until after he finishes with the bacta.” 

Henley sighed. “No doubt this will not stop any of you from living here. The rule is one at a time.”

His expression softened slightly and Veers wondered how terrible he looked for the Doctor to do that. 

“He should make a full recovery—you can see him after  _ you _ , General, change your uniform. Your Highness you can come now if you wish.”

The petite princess rose and rested a hand on Veers’ shoulder. He looked up at her.

“My Father is coming,” she said simply. “I’ll see you soon, General.”

She disappeared with Henley and Venka came over. 

“I’ll contact Lord Vader, Veers. You should go clean up. I’ll wait here until you get back and then I’ll set up camp in Piett’s conference room.”

Veers stood slowly. “You could have his office, Venka, might be easier for you.”

The Rear-Admiral hesitated. “I…..I’d rather not, Veers. That’s  _ his _ . I don’t like feeling as though it wasn’t….”

Veers nodded. “I understand, thank you, Venka.”

“General…..” 

Veers turned. Venka’s face was wary, but determined. “I…..watched the footage from the bridge. I know that we’re telling everyone it was a terrible cascade fault---likely caused by that bastard---but we both know that isn’t the case.”

He paused. “I think General, that I need to be brought in on just what this ship is. I think I’ve earned that.”

Veers gave a small nod. “That…...is fair. But it’s not mine to tell or decide, Venka. His Lordship is coming. Once he reviews the footage, I will discuss that with him…..and with Piett when he’s conscious.”

“Thank you.” 

  
  


****

Some hours later, Veers found himself next to his friend once more. 

_ How many times had they shed blood for each other? _ he wondered, watching Piett breathe as he lay still in his drugged sleep. 

_ Did his friend truly understand that he wasn’t the disposable one? Or was this just his deeply ingrained instinct to protect? Perhaps a combination.  _

Regardless, he would be right here, next to the Admiral. The lights above him flashed green. 

She would be here too. It was oddly comforting. 


	41. Introduction to a Lady Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Lady makes some friends. Her Admiral figures out some things about family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am slowly getting to a point (as is Piett) where we can talk about his family. We're not quite there yet, but I see it coming reasonably soon. 
> 
> Thank you as always for reading!!

Anakin hated bacta. Having spent over two decades needing it to survive, it actively repulsed him. Yes, he’d had to use it a few times since his surgeries on Kamino. He still hated it. 

He could smell it in the air even though it had been a good six hours since the medical team had released Piett from the tank, and brought him here to finally wake up in his own time. 

He rose and paced the small room once more. 

<You are certain my Admiral is repaired? She asked anxiously.>

<I am certain he is healing, Lady, he told her.>

It had been serious though. Two more inches and it would have gone through his heart. Leia still had a haunted look in her eyes, and Veers had completely retreated to his ‘Iron General’ persona.

<I believe it is time to let others know just who you are Lady, he said, pacing back toward Piett.>

Veers had presented the situation, and Anakin agreed. He had also been clear that they should wait for Piett’s permission as well. The Lady was his as much as Anakin’s. 

<If my Admiral agrees, Dark one, she said and he could hear her cautious tone. I…..do not wish for many to know. Dark one, humans can be afraid…..>

<I agree, Lady. I understand and I promise, only three.>

Piett took a deeper breath and moved his hand.

Anakin moved to sit by him at once, watching as the Admiral slowly surfaced. He took another deep breath and winced slightly.

Yes, that would be sore for some time yet--Henley had masterfully repaired his lung, but it would ache. Anakin was rather an expert on lung injury. 

“Welcome back, Admiral,” said Anakin, and Piett turned his head on the pillow in surprise. 

“My Lord,” he managed hoarsely, “What…..?”

“I was informed that the Admiral of the Fleet,  _ my friend, _ managed to get himself rather badly injured. Naturally, I came.”

Piett blinked, struggling to process this, but a small smile spread on his face when Anakin’s words sank in. 

“That….thank you, my Lord.”

“I will not be long, Admiral, as Dr. Henley has been most….. _ resolute _ that you are to sleep. I wished to ask you what you recalled from the bridge.”

Piett frowned slightly and then comprehension dawned. “Is Veers all right?”

_ Naturally, his first thought was for his closest friend. _

Anakin heard his heart rate spike on the monitor and placed his hand on the Admiral’s arm.

“The General is in perfect health. Well... Stressed on your behalf. Do not worry, Piett. I wonder if you recall what the Lady did?”

“She…..she killed him didn’t she?”

“Yes.”

A pause as the two men regarded each other.

“Admiral, I believe it is time to inform a select few others about the nature of our Lady. However, if you do not wish it, I will abide by that decision.”

Piett raised his eyebrows.

_ True, when had Anakin ever made that statement to the Admiral? _

Piett brought a careful hand up to his jaw and grimaced. “I must look a sight—- my apologies, my Lord.”

Anakin grinned at him. “You’re alive, Admiral, that’s a good sight.”

Piett managed a light snort and winced again. “What does the Lady say, my Lord?”

Anakin chuckled. “She wishes to know your thoughts. She agrees if you do.”

“Whom do you wish to inform?”

“My children and the Rear-Admiral, who are all fostering their own suspicions anyway.”

The Admiral smiled and tried to suppress a yawn. “Very well. I would like to be there.”

Anakin rose. “You will be, Piett. We can be patient. You focus on healing.”

  
  


****

  
  


Accordingly, Piett found their small group in his quarters a few days later. Henley himself had actually suggested that the Admiral would heal more quickly in a familiar environment, and didn’t once complain about being Piett’s ‘personal physician’, much to Veers’ astonishment. 

Piett himself had been carefully ensconced on his sofa, and spent a great deal of time sleeping, which annoyed him to no end as he felt like he was living between gaps of time. The princess and Veers brushed off his complaints firmly with pointed remarks about healing. 

He might have gone insane with the tedium of being laid up like this in other circumstances. But now…….Piett had  _ people.  _ He still marveled at this thought. People who were making it very clear that he was  _ theirs _ . The feeling this produced…..he wasn’t sure how to describe. Warm? Content? Happy? It seemed  _ deeper _ than all of that. 

_ Family? His mind whispered. Family as it ought to have been, perhaps, for an undersized lonely boy from the poor Outer Rim. _

Sometimes he woke to find Veers reading datapads in one of his armchairs, which had been pulled up right next to the sofa. 

Other times he would surface to the smell of his spiced tea, and a small hand holding his, and she would fill him in on the fleet, because she knew it helped put his mind at rest to hear it. Apparently, their Admiral almost being killed had a rather unifying effect, and he was grateful that rifts were being healed. 

When he was able to stay awake for longer periods, his commander brought in a Dejarik table and they played until Anakin cheated or Piett fell asleep. 

Once, he woke to the princess and Veers having a serious debate, rebuttals and all, over who got the last piece of Litelan star cake. 

“What is star cake?” he’d asked, which got him two stunned looks. 

“His,” the princess declared, from her spot on the ottoman near his head. She’d snagged the plate from Veers and deposited it on his lap, along with a kiss to his forehead. 

One of these days he wouldn’t blush. 

“Spoiled rotten, Firmus,” stated Veers, pointing an accusing finger at him, but he was grinning widely. 

The cake was delicious.

  
  


So here all of them were. Veers was in the armchair near his head, with the princess perched cross legged on the ottoman right next to him. Skywalker had claimed the other armchair across from them. Venka was still too uncomfortable to sit in his lordship’s presence and stood near Piett’s small tree collection, while the former Dark lord claimed the center of the room. 

“You are all here,” his lordship began, “because you can be trusted with this information. You have suspected it I think,” he looked at his son, “but in light of recent events, it is time for you to know the full picture.” 

Piett did trust them all, he did, but….. well, she was his Lady and his heart was pounding swiftly. 

“The Executor was designed to be the most advanced ship of her kind. But even her creators had no idea what had been achieved when she was forged in Kuat.” 

He paused and Piett was sure he was conversing with the ship silently. 

“I was always meant to have her,” continued his commander, “and the first time I boarded her I realized that she was so much ….. _ more _ than the weapon they intended.” 

This was Piett’s first time to hear this as well. 

“How did you know?” This was Skywalker. 

“Her….. _presence_ was potent. And you know, my son, that I have always been skilled with machines. I spoke to her. And she answered.” 

A hiss from Venka. “So….. I haven’t been imagining…. she is sentient?” 

Anakin's gaze found Piett’s. 

“That is the clearest way to put it, yes.” 

“You speak to her how?” asked the princess, glancing between her Admiral and her Father. 

Piett knew something in his face revealed his tension when her hand came to rest on his shoulder. 

“I can speak to her in the Force.”

The two younger Skywalkers digested this. “Why hasn’t she spoken to us then?” the commander asked.

Anakin’s mouth quirked. “Without trying to be rude, my son, the Lady chooses to whom she speaks. Currently, that is myself and the Admiral.”

All eyes in the room were now on him and he shifted uncomfortably under the blanket. 

“It’s….ah… it’s not the same as Lord Vader,” he said and quite suddenly, the lights flickered swiftly in support. Everyone looked up. 

Veers’ eyes found his and he nodded in encouragement. He knew more than most. 

“That...that right there would be one of the ways she ‘talks’ to me,” Piett continued, “And thank you, Lady. We’ve worked out a way to communicate with my data pad as well so that we can do so when I’m not in my quarters.”

“She uses colors doesn’t she?” asked Venka suddenly. “I’ve noted it several times now. For a while I thought it was a design feature, but then I realized a pattern.”

“She does,” Piett agreed, sharing a small smile with Veers. “Never words out loud. Well. Almost never.” He did not feel like elaborating on that. 

“So, when she switches her running lights to red….” Venka said.

“She’s, ahem, angry,” Piett answered, and Venka nodded as though that answered several things. 

“And when she switches those lights from that lovely blue to white?” the princess asked him.  _ And kriff, why was he flushing now? _

“That…..”

Veers gave him a hand. “That, your highness, is her color for her Admiral.” Something about that seemed to please the princess mightily, and her brother looked at her knowingly. 

“So you already knew about this,” said Venka to Veers, somewhat miffed. 

“Rather difficult not to Venka,” he replied evenly, and the Lady must have been in a mischievous mood because she flashed her green light briefly.

This was the second time that Anakin had seen it and he looked at Piett. “I take it that is for the General?” he said, somewhat amused at her antics. 

“Yes, my Lord,” the Admiral answered. Skywalker chuckled and Venka rolled his eyes. 

“I could see that,” his commander said thoughtfully looking up at the ceiling. 

“But I think I should remember my manners now. Rear-Admiral, Luke, Leia, this is the Lady. Lady, my children and the Rear-Admiral of the fleet.”

Piett watched them. Venka clearly didn’t know where to look. The young Jedi looked up like his Father. “Hello Lady,” he said calmly. She flicked her lights again. 

“Ah….I can just...talk?” Venka asked.

“Yes, Venka,” Piett answered, suddenly feeling tired again, and allowing himself to relax a bit more into the pillows. The princess shot him a swift, assessing look. 

“Hello, ah Lady,” Venka said and Anakin grinned. Piett wondered what she had said to him. 

“I’m glad to meet you, Lady,” said the princess calmly, “thank you for watching out for our Admiral, and the rest of us really.” 

The Lady shot a swift white beam at the princess. Piett and his commander shared a look. _What was that?_

“Yes, about that,” started Venka. “What she did on the bridge, that wasn’t programmed…..she  _ decided… _ .?”

“Yes,” said Anakin, “it is not the first time she has done so.”

The lights dipped red briefly. 

Venka looked a little pale and Piett felt quite protective.

“She wouldn’t ever harm the crew or our fleet----they are  _ hers _ . She knows the difference between a lethal threat and less extreme measures.” 

“I believe you sir, I’m just trying to….I’m figuring out that we have a 19 kilometer warship who has learned moral codes and will also kill to protect her Admiral.”

“To be fair,” put in Veers mildly, “so would I.” 

_ He did not deserve a friend like Max. _

Skywalker and his Lordship both chuckled, and the princess looked consideringly up at the ceiling.

“I always knew I liked the Lady,” she said. “She picked you didn’t she?” she asked looking back to Piett suddenly.

_ How did she know….? _

He glanced swiftly to Anakin who shook his head. 

“She ….yes, she did I suppose,” he replied. “Your Highness, how did you…?” 

“It just  _ felt _ like that’s what she would do.”

His commander looked sharply at his daughter, then to the ceiling. 

“Hmm.” 

“At any rate,” Piett continued, tabling that mystery for another discussion, “As you all can appreciate, there are a multitude of reasons his Lordship and myself would like this information to be completely classified.” 

“Kelly suspects,” stated Venka, glancing inquiringly at the ex Sith. 

Piett shared a look with Anakin—they had discussed this. 

“For now he will have to stay suspicious,” The older Skywalker responded. “The Lady herself would like this knowledge to be limited.” 

Piett could see that Venka was still wrapping his head around the reality of the ship having wishes and desires. 

He, however, suddenly wanted the meeting to be done—- sleep was threatening again and he didn’t want  _ that _ indignity.

The princess slid her hand into his as if sensing this.  _ Could she? _

“Of course we will protect this information,” she said seriously, “thank you for the introduction. Was there anything else we needed to cover at the moment?" She looked at her Father, who glanced swiftly at Piett. 

_ Rude to talk about me when I can’t hear it _ , he thought, and was rewarded with a slight smirk from his lordship. 

“I think that will suffice for the moment. We should all give the Admiral back his quarters.”

“Thank you, my Lord”, said Venka bowing. “It’s very good to see you on the mend, sir,” he told Piett, shaking his hand. 

“I’ll walk with you, Rear Admiral,” said Skywalker, shooting his Father a knowing look. 

_ Yes, Skywalker could help calm Venka’s clearly shaken state. _

“Leia…...may I have a moment of your time?" asked his commander and the two of them gazed at each other almost….. _ warily _ for a moment. 

“Yes,” she replied carefully and rose, patting his shoulder. “I’ll see you later on, dear Admiral.”

She gave a swift look to Veers, behind him, and seemed satisfied with whatever she saw, before exiting with her Father. 

_ The princess and Max. That was a fearsome combination which even he had a hard time resisting.  _

_ Do you need to resist it? _ Said a voice in his head, as the General rose to draw his chair around so the two of them could see each other. 

Veers surveyed him for a moment, then sat back. “Well, how do you feel about that, Firmus?”

“Venka took it the hardest, even though he wanted the information. But…...I do trust that all of these people will look out for the Lady.”

“Mm.” Veers steepled his hands under his chin and pondered him. Piett suddenly felt like a green cadet about to get a dressing down. 

“I wonder if you trust that all of these same people will look out for _you_ as well, Admiral.”

_ He had been wondering when Veers was going to ream him out.  _

“I…...of course I…”

“Firmus.” Veers was definitely using his authoritative General voice. He would  _ not _ flinch.

“I realize that I can’t ask you to stop protecting people you care about. It would be rank hypocrisy on my part.”

Piett dared to snort, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to meet his friend’s eyes and cursed himself for his cowardice. 

“Sometime you may tell me why you’re so….. _ reluctant _ to believe that other people might want to protect  _ you _ .”

_ I want to, Max, I’m just not quite ready.  _

“In the meantime, as they say, actions speak louder than words. I hope you’ve seen that this last week at least.”

Piett raised his eyes to meet the General’s at last. “They do. I have," he insisted. He meant it.

Veers nodded not looking away. “I believe you. But you should know this--- The next time someone so much as twitches a blaster in your vicinity, I’m stunning you myself to ensure this doesn’t happen again.”

Piett’s mouth quirked. “Understood, General.”

Veers smiled at him warmly. “Good. Then go to sleep. I’ll be here.”

_ Yes _ , the Admiral thought, sleep pulling him down,  _ family should feel like this _ . 

  
  



	42. Veers and Vader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes you need to clear the air during a battle.

Was there some law in the galaxy, Veers wondered, that if one went on a mission where a Skywalker was involved, it immediately became a plasma fuelled dumpster fire?

Because frankly that was the only explanation he could come up with for why he was not only cut off from the rest of the Herd, but he was outside of his AT-AT with no way of scrambling back up before the enemy canon would be on them. 

“Go!” he yelled, waving his arm. “That’s an order! Go! I’ll meet up with you when I can!”

His pilot obeyed, though he was sure that Roland hated it. 

Veers scrambled for the position of Lord Vader who was herding a large group of civilians to the cover of the broad, leafy trees.

“My Lord!” he yelled as the AT-ATs fired at the oncoming Black Sun vehicles. 

“General,” his commander called back calmly. “Come and assist me!”

He ran toward the group and had a child thrust into his arms.

  
“My Lord…..” he started.

“Not now, General Veers, follow the woman in the yellow cloak to their shelter, then report back here.”

Veers obeyed despite his mind racing around in a frenzy.

_ Because in the middle of protecting this planet from the incursions of the Black Sun, the most useful strategy was definitely having the General and his ex-Sith commander running around in the midst of the battle playing nursemaid. _

But he followed the group, the small boy in his arms staying remarkably calm and watching him curiously with green eyes that were remarkably like Zev’s had been….

He nearly ran into one of the refugees and hauled his focus to the civilians before him.

“Where is your shelter?” he asked, not seeing anything but trees and brush around them.

“Here,” the woman replied, lifting a well concealed trap door into the earth. 

_ All right then. _

“Thank you,” she told him as he handed the child to her. The boy waved solemnly as he was carried away. 

Veers raised a hand briefly in response.

Then he turned and moved swiftly back toward his commander’s position. 

“My Lord!” he called seeing the tall figure at the edge of the tree line assessing the oncoming enemy position. “Your men…?”

“Dead,” was the succinct response. Veers would feel that later. He had been sure Vader himself was dead when the blast had scattered the division he was leading on the ground. Thus, why Veers had practically slid down the ladder of Walker 4 to retrieve him. 

“Your orders, sir?” 

“We need to rejoin your men, General, and those modified canons need to be destroyed. Black Squadron will …..get down!!”

Which he did. It still didn’t keep him from getting tossed like a rag doll when the blast shattered the trees around them.

  
  


***

Veers smelled freshly peeled bark and damp earth. It was also hard to breathe. Slowly he realized it was because his face was pressed into said bark and earth and he raised his head to take a gasp of clear air. 

He felt sore all over.  _ Almost like you got tossed into the air by an explosion? _

He waited for a moment but didn’t hear anything and so carefully made it to hands and knees. He didn’t even feel the vibrations of his walkers which meant they were quite far away now. Kriff. 

“General!” 

He raised his head to see his commander moving swiftly down the slope toward him. How was it fair that he didn’t look injured in the least? He’d been standing right next to him!

Veers spat dirt out of his mouth and moved to stand……

...only to go right back down at the crippling pain in his left ankle. 

_ Son of a Hutt _ .

“Can you stand if I assist you, General?” and the former Dark lord was next to him. 

“Yes my Lord, but the walking will be an issue. And we need to get out of this area.” 

And his commander looked almost  _ amused _ . “I think I am reasonably up to the task of helping you move, Veers.”

The General was startled. Had he ever addressed him purely by his surname? He didn’t think so.

“Thank you my Lord.” He got his arm over his commander’s shoulders and together they moved up the hill. He could hear distant artillery.

“What’s the situation, sir?” Veers asked as they moved deeper into the tree line. 

The former Sith got that far off look as he focused. “Our forces are roughly five miles east. If my children were here, this would be easy. Unfortunately, my ship is in the town and the coms are jammed. So, General, we have a hike ahead of us.”

Veers was not looking forward to  _ that _ . 

“Is there anything I can do to brace the ankle, Veers? Would it be easier if we got your boot off….?”

His name again. He was used to his commander using Piett’s name. The Admiral was his second in command after all, the one who had worked most closely with the man over the years. Still…..he appreciated it. 

“Thank you sir, but no. We wouldn't be able to get it back on again and I need it. It will act as a sort of brace in itself due to the swelling. Nothing for it, my Lord but to get on with it.”

“Indeed.” His commander smiled grimly and they proceeded---Veers noticed that his lordship was doing his best to steer him around major tufts and divots in the ground and he appreciated it. 

“That seems to rather be your motto, General,” Anakin said after a while. “Get on with it.”

Veers glanced at him sharply.  _ Were they making conversation now? It felt strange, but as they had a great deal of time and difficulty ahead, he supposed it would be good to take his mind off the increasing pain in his ankle.  _

“I suppose so, my Lord. There have been too many circumstances in my career where it has been necessary.” 

“Very true. I can…..understand that.”

Veers suddenly wanted to ask how often Anakin Skywalker had told himself to get on with it while behind the mask. He reminded himself that he didn’t want to be dumped here to die either. 

His commander tilted his head at him. 

“Do you really believe that I would still hold your life so loosely, General?”

“Apparently you hold the privacy of my thoughts fairly loosely, my Lord,” Veers growled.

“I did teach you some shielding, Veers, I can't help it if you aren’t employing it.” 

“You _can_ ,” Veers shot back, and was stunned at himself. He had _spoken_ _back_ to his commanding officer as though he was arguing with Piett. _Stars_. 

But Anakin laughed. He  _ laughed _ . “Finally, General. I’ve waited for some time for you to be comfortable enough to see that you have more than earned the right to speak your mind.”

Veers scowled. 

“It’s not a criticism. I know that the fault lies entirely with me. Apparently we just needed to strand the two of us in the wilderness during combat and give you a bum ankle. All the right combinations to facilitate conversation.”

It was Veers’ turn to laugh. “Sir…..now I don’t know what to say.”

“Unusual for you,” prodded the former Dark lord. “I was under the impression from the Admiral, that you always know what to say. Or at least,” he shot a raised eyebrow at Veers, “that you always say  _ something _ .”

Veers snorted. “That man is such a hypocrite.” But he smiled.

“Mm. One who is no doubt rather stressed about our whereabouts at the moment.”

_ Yes, Piett would not be taking their impromptu hike well. Which was actually a comforting thought.  _

“I have high hopes that he will locate us, my Lord…..what is it?” Veers asked, noticing a look of dawning realization on his commander’s face.

“Very true, General. I was remiss in forgetting that there is someone else who can help locate us.”

He looked as if he was concentrating.

“Ah, who might that be, sir?” Veers asked not coming up with anyone himself.

“The Lady.”

_ True. Still very odd for him to ponder, but true.  _

Anakin turned to him suddenly. “She knows,” he said with a smile, “which means Piett will know shortly.”

He paused. “Let’s aim for that hill up there, General. Provided no further troop movements occur, we can wait there. Anyway, you need a respite.”

“I am quite capable of going on, my Lord,” said Veers stiffly. 

“You may be the ‘Iron General’ Veers, but you are still human. And I am Force sensitive. You need a break.” 

“You realize that you have a great deal of unfair advantages, sir,” Veers pointed out dryly as they made their way to the aforementioned hill. 

Anakin chuckled. “Piett said almost the same thing recently.”

“The Admiral is reasonably astute, sir.”

“More than reasonably,” his commander replied as they eased themselves onto a large boulder and appreciated the slight breeze wafting over them. 

“General…..” he paused. “I have had some opportunity to speak to the Admiral on this topic. And this is hardly an ideal time I realize, but then, I am not gifted with social graces.”

“That makes two of us, my Lord.” Veers managed a small smile.

_ Where was this going? _ __   
  


“I wished to both thank you for helping hold this fleet together, and to offer my….apologies for the numerous times that I made you wish to kill me.”

_ That….. was not at all what he had been expecting to hear.  _

“Ah, well…..”

“You don't have to deny it, General. I must say, your restraint was entirely admirable. Given the number of times that I appeared to threaten the only family you had left, I am impressed with your control.”

_ So they were doing this then.  _

“You definitely threatened him, my Lord.”

Anakin sighed. “I see that you would absolutely believe that. I can only say now that I never would have acted on it. Even…..even at Bespin.”

Veers stiffened. “I----am not sure that would be the best topic at the moment, sir.”  _ Kriffing hell, he had been ready to pull the trigger that day…..can you hear that thought, my Lord? _

“Yes, General. You’re rather shouting it. And I’m glad you didn’t fire first. I might have let you.”

_ What _ .

“But I had a son to protect and a fleet to repair, so again, thank you for having much better self restraint than I did.”

Veers digested this. Apparently, even the mention of the hell Piett had gone through at Bespin (which was subsequently Veers’ hell too) was enough to trigger him. 

“I assume, my Lord, that you have …….”

“I have cleared the air with the Admiral on this topic, yes. I have no excuse. And you both have been…..” he stopped and looked up.

“Loyal is too weak a word. But it is all I can offer. So, Veers, thank you. Please allow me to continue to make it up to you.” 

Anakin held out his hand. A part of Veers wanted to punch him even now. His commander smiled. 

_ Kriff, he heard that too. _

Veers took the hand as a shuttle began its landing near them. “I can do that, my Lord.”

His commander helped him up as the ramp came down, and a familiar figure appeared. 

“Shouldn’t you be running a fleet right now?” asked Veers as they limped over.

Piett put his hands on his hips. “We were very successful, thank you for asking, and the Rear-Admiral is doing a great job with mopping up operations. I, however, had my  _ ship _ inform me that two of our most important men were stranded here, and one of them decided to injure himself. She did not say  _ how _ as she did not know, so I decided my presence was required.”

“Did you pilot  _ yourself _ ?” Veers asked incredulous.

“I am in the navy. I’m somewhat capable,” his friend replied, lifting an offended eyebrow. 

“Somewhat is the word,” their commander replied, striding past them. “I am here now, you can help General Veers, Admiral.”

Veers shared a look with Piett and both grinned before following their commander on board. 


	43. Leia and the Lady

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I think it is time for them to properly meet. And unite. Oh galaxy......buckle up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes place directly after Introduction to a Lady Parts 1 and 2, so if you haven't read those, it could be helpful. :)

Anakin led the way to his conference room on board the Executor, Leia not far behind him. 

When the doors closed, he paused and considered how to approach this. He and his daughter had made good progress, but this was still…..careful territory when discussing her abilities. 

“Leia…..I am curious how you understood that the Lady chose Piett.”

“As I said earlier, I just…..I don’t know--- I felt it. I can’t give a better explanation than that I’m afraid.”

“Hmmm. Have you had other such….. _ feelings _ ? With regard to the ship that is?”

His daughter gazed at him thoughtfully. “Well, I think I might have. I didn’t think much of it to be honest at the time but…..”

“Would you tell me?” Anakin asked. 

<Lady, he said. Have you been trying to communicate with my daughter?>

<Are you unhappy about that, Dark one? She asked, almost uncertainly.>

“I--- I’ve always liked the ship. She’s so beautiful.”

<I am not unhappy at all, Lady. You are more than welcome to communicate with whom you wish. Shall I help you to do so more fully with my daughter?>

“And, I don’t know, when she runs her white lights for the Admiral-----even when I didn’t know what she was doing, I was drawn to that.”

<Yes, Dark one! She was eager, his Lady. He couldn’t deny that he had been curious for some time how these two might interact.>

“And….I feel at home here. It’s somewhat like on the Falcon. I would have said that I felt that way due to the Admiral being here, but…..it was before I….I felt like that towards him.”

“Leia.” He paused. This moment felt significant somehow. “The Lady would like to meet you properly.”

She was surprised. “Did we not already….?”

“She wishes to  _ speak _ with you, my daughter.”

The lights flickered a little frenetically.

Leia gazed at him, eyes surprised but…..excited.

_ What a meeting this would be.  _

<Yes, Lady, you are being impatient.>

“Oh. Well, that…...is a great compliment, thank you Lady. But, I don’t know how….”

“I can help you.”

Her brown eyes were wide. They had never done anything in the Force together like this. 

“Very well, “ she answered at last. “What…..what should I do?”

“It would help to close your eyes I think. And have physical contact with her. Place your hand on the bulkhead.”

Leia obeyed, placing her hand on the smooth, cool metal, and Anakin sensed her clearing her mind and  _ reaching _ for the ship.

“Good,” he encouraged.

<I sense her, Dark one!>

<You are never this excited to speak with me, Lady, he told her dryly.>

<I do not intend offense. I am very gratified to speak to you. But you are, human designation---male. I have never spoken to a human designation---female.>

Anakin grinned. This would be interesting indeed.

“All right, my daughter. Now. Think of all the things you love about the ship. The things that make her the Executor. The Lady.”

Leia relaxed into pleasant thought. Perhaps it was because she was already so comfortable with the ship. Perhaps it was because they shared a love for the Lady’s Admiral. Regardless, Anakin felt the moment they connected. 

_ Force _ .

No really,  **_Force_ ** . Should he warn the galaxy?

<Hello? Said Leia.>

<Greetings! I am the Lady. You know this already. If the ship could quiver with anticipation, she would. >

Anakin could feel his daughter’s wonder. 

<I…...I do. This is so ….. _ incredible _ . Do you know who I am, Lady?>

<You are the female progeny of Anakin Skywalker, fraternal twin to Luke Skywalker. You are also the Dear one and I shall refer to you as such.>

Both Anakin and Leia were puzzled.

<I am sorry Lady, I am confused. My name is Leia.>

<The humans designate that. But you are speaking to  _ me _ . My Admiral calls you his dear one. That is what you are.>

Anakin watched his daughter blush and felt her pleasure at this information as her eyes met his. 

Yes, that suited. He was glad once more that Piett was recovering. What both Leia and the Lady would have done……

<I have wished to speak with you for some time, Dear one. This pleases me. A pause. The Lady was ….. _ hesitant _ ?>

<Dark one?>

Leia looked at him sharply. 

<Yes, Lady, what is it?>

<I do not wish to give offense to you. But I wish to speak to your progeny without your presence.>

Anakin chuckled and Leia smiled. 

<Very well. I shall find Luke.>

He looked at his daughter who looked back with shining eyes, and no idea of the powerful connection that he felt between the two of them. Perhaps because he was so in tune with machines in the Force, he was more able to sense what was happening here. It was both exhilarating and…..overwhelming.

He turned to go. 

“Father.”

His daughter had moved to stand near him. 

“Thank you for helping me. I promise to look after her.”

_ As will she for you. _

“I know you will,” he smiled at her and left. 

  
  


****

Leia stood still for a moment after the doors had closed behind her father. She had to concentrate once more to establish the connection to the Lady. This would take some practice on her part. 

Sleek arrow shape. White glow---a holy fire. Power. Belonging.

<Lady?>

<You are doing very well, Dear one. Your power is….newer. Untrained.>

<Yes. Leia smiled. I----I didn't know that I was---how did you put it?---Anakin Skywalker’s progeny until recently.>

<The Lady seemed to ponder this. He caused you pain, Dear one. Very deep pain. But you are…..overcoming that.>

Leia was rather breathless.  _ This ship perceived that? _

<Yes, she replied. Though…...I cannot think of him as my brother does.>

<I sense this. Must you think of him that way? Is this what humans require?>

Well. No, actually, no she was not obligated to have those feelings toward her Father. She smiled tentatively.

<No, Lady. Though healing is required. And I think we are achieving that.>

<Yes, I have sensed that in you both, Dear one.>

_ Had she? Stars.  _

<But he is not as my Admiral is to you.>

Leia actually staggered physically and mentally at the  _ feeling _ that the ship projected to her.  _ The Lady felt like that for her Admiral? Kriff it was amazing that the bridge had survived her retribution on Piett’s attacker. _

Of course, to be fair, once Leia herself knew that Piett would live, she had gone to her Father’s training room and…...well. The devastation was being repaired. Luke had given her a reproving look when she came out, panting and drenched in sweat. She had not damaged people, now had she?

<No, she replied, smiling. The Admiral…..well. He is my dear one as well.>

<She could feel the Lady’s core deep satisfaction. Yes, she told Leia, you and I shall now protect him. Together.>

Speaking of which…..She was due to have dinner with Han and then she should relieve Veers. Henley was very encouraging that Piett may be allowed to start moving around soon, but right now, they had shifts. Ostensibly it was to help the Admiral. Leia knew (and she suspected Veers did too) that it also helped the people close to him---gave them tangible evidence that he was alive and recovering. Leia had already had too many nightmares where that had not been the case. 

Accordingly, after spending time with her Corellian other half, and being refreshed by his presence, she moved once more to the Admiral’s quarters. The doors opened for her as she approached and she looked up, fumbling to find the connection…….

…..and a presence reached back, helping to guide her…..

<Hello again, Dear one.>

Leia grinned widely as she entered.

<Hello, Lady. Thank you for the help.>

Veers looked up from his datapad as she came near and placed a hand on his shoulder. Piett slept peacefully, and Leia kept her voice hushed.

“How is he, General?”

They had a routine now. Reports and duty change. Appropriate for a naval regime. 

“The meeting took it out of him, which may have been a good thing. He hasn’t moved for five hours.”

Leia patted him. “I have the bridge, General,” she said, teasing lightly. Veers rose and smiled at her. 

“Thank you, your highness.” He stretched stiff muscles and moved out of the room. Leia pushed the ottoman (her unofficial seat) right up to the sofa, so she could be closer to her Admiral.

His color was good and she was pleased that there were no lines of pain on his face, even though Henley was slowly weaning him off of the heavier painkillers. 

<He is healing well? The Lady asked.>

Leia took his hand carefully in hers, reassured by its warmth that Piett was indeed there, and merely sleeping. 

<Yes, she replied, very well.>

<I have regret, the Lady told her.>

<Why, Lady? Leia asked, surprised, but feeling the Lady’s emotion.>

<I did not prevent this. I watched it and did not act. The Dark one has been clear----I should not take life if I can help it.>

_ So her Father had had a chat about ethics had he, with the greatest warship in the galaxy? _

<That is true, Lady. I am sure the Admiral himself would not wish you to act too soon.>

<But he acts swiftly. He _did_ , to protect the Loyal one.>

Yes, Veers had told her, the General’s countenance filled with much of the same emotion the Lady was projecting. 

Indeed, Piett was swift to protect. She knew this well. Leia sighed lightly and squeezed his hand carefully. 

<That is true, Lady. And I know we all appreciate that you do not want to kill indiscriminately. Perhaps you can modify your beam to well, maim, instead? If you are not sure?>

She felt the Lady consider this. 

<I will endeavor to do that, Dear one.>

<And then, Leia told her grimly, you do not have to hesitate at all.>

How was it possible to feel this level of kinship with a Super Star Destroyer? But Leia felt the very same emotions from the Lady that she herself was feeling. 

_ Fierce protectiveness. Love. Knowledge of the great power they both could wield in different and devastating ways.  _

Piett sighed and opened his eyes. 

And it was so very odd to feel the same surge of joy that Leia herself felt, rolling through her from the Lady. 

“Hello,” Leia said gently, watching him adjust and he gripped her hand and smiled. 

_ She was so grateful to feel the strength returning in that grip _ . 

<His feelings for you are strong, the Lady told her with satisfaction.>

“Hello, my dear. You seem…... _ pleased _ with yourself.” 

Leia chuckled and released his hand to reach a water bottle, which she handed to him. 

<May I tell him that I speak to you, Lady?>

<Yes. But we do not have to tell him everything we speak of do we, Dear one?>

Leia laughed, and Piett gave her a puzzled look. 

<No, Lady. I am happy to keep your confidence.>

A sense of satisfaction from the ship. 

“Admiral…..” Leia drew her legs up onto her perch and leaned forward, chin resting on her clasped hands.

“I…….met the Lady today.”

Piett’s confusion was still evident, and he took another drink of water. “I am aware, my dear----I was awake for that part.” 

She gave him a little half smile. “Yes, but…...my Father and I met afterwards. Privately. He realized that I had been….. _ sensing _ things that the Lady was sending me.”

Piett took this in. “Things like you knowing she chose me?”

Leia nodded. “So, ah, he guided me in how to….. _ speak _ to the Lady.”

The lights above them flickered in a bright happy yellow and Piett drew in a sharp breath. 

“Lady……”

He looked directly into Leia’s eyes. “So she speaks to you as…..as she does to your Father?”

<I would speak to him that way too if we could, Dear one. Tell him please.>

Leia raised her eyebrows at this instruction. “Yes.”

“ _ Stars _ .”

“That’s how I felt too. And, dear Admiral,” Leia smiled into his eyes, “she wants you to know that she would speak to you that way as well, if she could.”

Piett was clearly reeling at these revelations. 

“She would…... But….well. Thank you Lady,” he said looking up, and her lights flickered at him. Leia felt the surge of affection from the ship. 

“She feels as strongly as I do about you,” Leia told him.

<With respect, Dear one, I feel more strongly because I am larger than you are.>

<Leia sent her amusement.>

Piett was watching her closely. “Are you talking now?”

“Yes, “ Leia replied. “I have a feeling that I will learn a great deal about navigating any conversation in her presence.”

“You and the Lady,” Piett said, pondering, “a united force.” 

He reached for Leia’s hand and raised it to his lips. 

“The two most powerful ladies in the galaxy. Stars help us all.” 

But he smiled and Leia felt his happiness.

<That is our Admiral, the Lady said pleased.>


	44. What makes a man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning for angst town here. There are references to child abuse, but I don't do really dark or graphic stuff, so read as you feel comfortable. 
> 
> I was close to tears writing this (WHY am I so cruel???) but I've been building to this and it's important for foundation so....  
> Maybe have some kleenex?
> 
> Thanks as always for your thoughts. :)

The boy was always hungry. He accepted this as fact much like the sky was blue, or Hutts were revolting. 

Hunger was just a part of life. Granted it made things….. more challenging. It meant sometimes that he wasn’t strong enough to look for jobs which meant no credits. Sometimes it meant that he didn’t have the energy to escape the bullies, thus adding to his collection of scars. 

But mostly it was just there—- a caged vulptex in his stomach growling and complaining at him. 

His mother tried. But she had his youngest sister to look after, and the two older ones weren’t able to do what he could do because they were girls. On this planet, to be female meant you were a commodity more often than not, and even at seven, he understood that he would not let that happen to them. 

So they did what they could near home and their little brother (in every sense of the word) took it upon himself to try and provide.

He was deeply pleased when he managed to get a steady job within two miles of their home. It was a distance he could walk and still have the energy to work. He and ten other boys of ages ranging from six to thirteen spent most of the day at a small plant, working on the packing line, placing dried jubal fruits in boxes.

They smelled marvellous. Many of the boys were in the same or similar situation to himself, so it was understandable when some of the fruits went…..missing. He couldn’t bring himself to take them---say what you would about his mother, but she had taught all of her children that theft and cheating and lying were not to be done. They may not have much, but they would have character.  _ Unlike their father _ , went implied, but he couldn’t remember the man. 

For two weeks, he did his work and got paid and all of them looked brighter with consistent food. Not much, but his mother was very good at stretching it. It was one of the few happy times he remembered. He even had hope that his baby sister might get well. 

And then. 

His first experience with the deeper levels of injustice and cruelty in the galaxy occurred. The master---a hard man, free with the strap---called them all together one morning. 

He paced in front of them, frowning terribly, and the boy remembered to keep his eyes forward and spine straight. It never helped to be a coward. 

“SOMEone, has been taking jubal fruits. I know it was at least one of you skinny brats. If you confess it now, the consequences will be  _ slightly _ less harsh. If not, I will assume guilt all around. And you know what that means.”

They all did. There was no shortage of workers who would happily take their jobs.

“So. Who did it?” he snarled. 

The boy knew that most of them had at one time or another. But the chief offender was the oldest boy. He rather thought the master should realize that, given that the oldest boy clearly looked the most well fed. 

The same boy who was currently pointing at him and the youngest boy. “They did sir. I’ve seen them.”

The boy gaped at him. He’d  _ never _ . But the youngest one burst into tears as the master strode over to loom over them. 

“Is that so? I should have known it would be you two brats.”

And the boy made a decision. He was not even the littlest in this group. And he couldn’t bear the thought of the sobbing boy beside him under the strap of ugly man before them. 

“It was me,” he said, stepping forward. “Just me.” And he shot a withering glare at the oldest boy, who stared impassively back. 

“Very well,” said the man and the boy could feel the fear of the others as he was hauled, stumbling after the master to the back alley where all such punishments took place. 

He could barely move when it was over, and he could feel the blood soaking the back of his shirt. He lay in the dust just breathing. He had to get up though. He had to make it home. 

Somehow he did, but he didn’t remember much about it. His oldest sister was happily outside, and saw him coming so that he didn’t need to burden his mother. She took him to the small shed and made a bed of sacks, then proceeded to do her best to clean his wounds, swearing the whole time.

“That’s a lot of swears,” he told her, impressed. 

She stroked his head. “Don’t tell mother. I wish I could kill him for you.”

He reached for her hand and brother and sister just contemplated the cruelty of the world for a while. 

His baby sister died three months later. 

He and his oldest sister between them, managed to do odd jobs for neighboring farmers. He made sure that she was safe, and she was competent and smart, and did most of the talking to get them hired. 

So they struggled on for the next few years and the boy got a new job, further from home, but it was a _job_ and he was bigger (well slightly) now.

So at eleven, he joined a cleaning and maintenance crew for the small spaceport. 

And he loved it. He loved the ships, junky as most of them were. He imagined them in the stars----the stars he and his oldest sister would watch sometimes from the roof when they sneaked out of bed. 

The men were rough and their language was rougher, but he worked very hard, and most of them gave him some form of respect for that. 

He learned to vary his routes home after he was attacked and robbed of his wages several times. 

He learned that no one would step in to protect him when one such robbery happened in broad daylight on a busy street. A small gathering watched him fight to defend himself only to end up curling his arms around his head and just enduring before the thieves got bored. 

No one offered to help him up. 

But he struggled on, because for some reason he couldn’t give up.

HIs oldest sister came a few times, despite the dangers, to see his work at the spaceport and admired various ships with him. Those memories were bittersweet. 

She was so proud of him. Because of his work there, she had managed to get a job in the spaceport cantina nearby. They could look out for each other, she declared. He was fourteen. 

They would weave their dreams over their lunch breaks. He would join the Imperial navy and sail through the stars, keeping systems safe.

They would both earn enough to buy a house here in the city for their mother and sister, and then his oldest sister would work on city government, and reform the corruption that spicers and pirates brought to their planet. 

He would be a captain someday and she could admire his ship---perhaps she would be allowed to travel with him for a while in the stars. 

“You will be so handsome in your uniform,” she teased, “and some beautiful lady will be devoted to you…” 

He blushed and shoved at her. “Stop. I’m much too short anyway. Besides, who are you to talk? I’ve seen the way you make gooey eyes at the mechanic’s boy down the way…..” 

He was cut off when she dumped the rest of her water on his head.

The next day all their dreams shattered. 

Two different groups of spicers had a fight over territory right in the maintenance bay.

The boy and his fellow workers stayed well out of it, taking cover behind crates and casings. For a while it was purely fists and pipes. 

Then a blaster was pulled.

And no one was safe. The boy watched one of the mechanics get hit right in the face. He was scrambling with the others to get out of there. 

He could see the dusty street and flung himself toward it. His sister appeared in the door of the cantina, wide eyed with fear and motioned him to come to her. 

And he was nearly there when red bloomed on her chest, and brother and sister stared at each other for an eternity before she fell. 

“No! No, no, no,” he was saying over and over as he took her in his arms.

“Please help her!” he cried as she coughed and wheezed.

No one came.

She put her hand to his face, wiping his tears.

“Firmus,” she managed. 

“Please don’t go,” he begged her.

“I…….love….you. So….so prou….” her hand fell and her brown eyes, that had sparkled with life and mischief, were fixed. 

And he buried his face in her hair and wept. 

Sometime later----he didn’t know when----some of the mechanics came. They had to wrestle her body out of his arms, and then get him to his feet. They were kind enough to get him home with her covered body in an old land speeder. His mother came out of the house, took a look at his blood soaked clothes and the covered form in the arms of his co-worker and promptly collapsed. 

His other sister sobbed hysterically, so he directed the man to lay his sister in the small shed. They clapped him on the back, sympathetically, and told him to take a day off before climbing back into the speeder and moving back to the city in the warm dusk. 

He dug her grave by himself, behind the house where the stars were most clearly visible. His mother and sister came out when he had finished, and they placed beautiful stones they had collected on the fresh earth. He heaved the large white stone he had found, to place at the head. 

Hours later, after his mother and remaining sister had gone inside, he sat next to her, as he had so many times. His hands were covered in dirt and her blood was stiff on his clothing. 

“I’m sorry,” he told her. “I’m so sorry.” He paused. It still felt as though she should be right next to him---her shoulder warm against his. He was half waiting for a gentle arm to slide around him, or an elbow nudge to his side. And his heart crumpled all over. Never again. He looked up at the stars.

He would join the anti-pirate fleet. It wasn’t the Imperial Navy, that was true, but if he could prevent what had happened today from happening to others, he would. She had wanted to end the corruption here. He would do his utmost to do just that. He could lie about his age. Besides, he would earn a lot more hunting dangerous criminals. That would allow him to support his mother and sister without adding his upkeep to her burden. 

Firmus Piett rose to his feet. It would be him against the galaxy. Very well then. He tilted his chin and straightened his spine to face it. 


	45. An Imperial Walks into a Bar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At a stopover near Corellia, the Rear Admiral and the ex-smuggler get a drink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep it's light and fun because we need that too!! :)

“What is this place called again?” Venka asked somewhat dubiously.

“Rob You Blind,” Solo answered cheerfully as they walked down the crowded sidewalks toward the bar. 

“And that doesn’t give you…. _ pause _ ?”

“Well, I’m usually the one doing the robbing in sabacc so…..”

Venka rolled his eyes. This explained why the ex-smuggler had told him to wear his blaster. 

He and Solo had gradually been building a friendship over the two years since the Emperor’s overthrow. Because they were taking the opportunity of being docked in the large spaceport near Corellia to cycle the crew through a much deserved shore leave, Venka had agreed to a night out with the man. 

The smuggler had been keen to share this place with the Rear-Admiral, and was apparently a bachelor this evening.

“It’s Leia’s night to have dinner with the Admiral,” he’d informed Venka. “I usually come too because I can typically get Piett to share at least one of his pirate stories, and we have a good time. But they’re apparently being high class tonight and sampling the recommended sushi place here.”

Venka made a face, and Solo clapped him on the back. “Exactly. Good man. So, you and I get to have fun, and  _ they _ can play roulette with food poisoning.”

Venka was now questioning his life choices however, as they made their way down seedier and seedier streets. 

“Ah, Solo…..”

“I know what you’re thinking. But this is where the real fun is at.”

Venka suspected that he had a different definition of  _ fun _ than the Corellian. 

“Here we are,”declared Solo expansively, ushering Venka into a very worn entryway. Paint may have graced it once, but that was all that could be said for it. 

Venka removed his hat and tucked it into his trouser pocket. A very old and very fragrant Gamorrean smoking a pipe stared at him from piggy eyes. Even as he watched a trail of mucus trickled out of its nostril. 

Moving on then…..

Solo grabbed his arm and hauled him further into the dimly lit and smokey atmosphere until at last they reached what Venka  _ supposed _ was the bar. 

“Two Corellian delights,” he told the Twi’lek tender, who stared at him unimpressed.

“Credits first,” she told him in a bored tone. Solo perched on the rickety stool closest to him and motioned Venka to do the same. 

Gingerly, he wiped the stool slightly with his gloves before shoving them in his other pocket. A Rodian on his other side stared at him and curled his lip.

Venka perched on the stool. “So…..what’s a Corellian delight?” he asked his companion in a low voice. Clearly, Imperial officers didn’t show up here often----at all let’s be honest---and he was aware of many sideways glances and mutterings coming his way. 

“Ah now, Venka, that’s telling,” Solo said with a wink. “You have to  _ experience _ it first. Then we can discuss it.”

“We are  _ friends _ right?” Venka asked dubiously, “This isn’t some elaborate scheme to get back at the Imperial Navy or something is it?” 

“Rear-Admiral!” Solo clapped him heartily on the back. “Of course we’re friends. Ask Leia.”

_ Leia _ , Venka thought.  _ My brain can’t do that to her royal highness _ . 

“Besides, Piett would hand me my ass if I did something to you.”

“I hardly think the  _ Admiral _ ,” Venka emphasised the title because the Navy had standards, “would be quite that crass, Solo.” 

“Have you seen him in action, Venka?”

Well yes, from a distance one time when he and Veers were sparring. But he knew better than to hang around and gawp like a wet behind the ears ensign. From what he knew of Piett, however, he could guess. 

“I believe he could do it, Solo. I’m just saying he wouldn’t be crass about it.”

The ex-smuggler laughed as their drinks arrived. They were on fire. 

“We put that out first, right?” he asked.

Solo grinned and covered his glass with a coaster of questionable cleanliness standards. Venka copied him. 

“Let the glass cool down a bit before you drink,” the Corellian advised. 

Venka waited and looked around the bar once more. Waves of hostility were sloshing around the room. 

“Um, Solo,” he said, “I am getting the impression that the clientele here don’t often see Imperial officers.”

“That’s true,” Solo replied, turning to rest his elbows behind him on the counter. “Why do you think I said to wear your service blaster?”

_ Oh kriff. _

“I thought it was just a precaution in general.”

Solo chuckled. This was not encouraging. “They’ve seen plenty of Storm troopers. But that’s usually to arrest someone.”

“Damn it, Solo!” Venka hissed. 

“I’m here, don’t get your boots in a twist. Ok, you should be able to drink now.”

Venka glared at him.

“Hey, this is like a rite of passage for friendship,” Solo declared. 

“Oh yes? Did you make Skywalker do this?” Venka shot at him, picking up the glass with its bright red contents anyway. 

“Nope,”responded Solo, taking a drink and smacking his lips. “But look at him, Venka. Wholesome farmboy. Also his father is Darth Vader. Would you take that risk?”

Venka rolled his eyes. “Fine. Cheers.” And he drank.

“ _ Holy _ son of a  _ Hutt _ !” He wheezed and set the glass down to see about replacing his lungs and throat.

“Yeah, it burns a bit at first.”

“Is there plasma coolant in there?” Venka choked.

Solo actually seemed to ponder this. “Possibly? It gets better as you go.”

Venka sighed. “Okay.” He took a more cautious sip. Still felt like a blaster fight in his mouth, but Solo had a point. He took another drink.

“See? You’re doing great. I knew you were a good friend choice,” Solo declared a bit loudly, his own drink half gone.

“Heee’s your ffffriend?” asked an intoxicated Gran over Solo’s shoulder.

The smuggler did a slow turn and radiated ‘threat’.

“Who’s askin’?”

“Those who befriend Imperials do not belong here,” declared a Duros who was very much in Venka’s space all of a sudden. 

_ Double kriff _ . 

“Didn’t see the sign then,” returned Solo, drinking with deliberate emphasis.

“You’ll want to finish that,” he muttered out of the side of his mouth to Venka.

“Why?” he hissed back, picking up his glass again and obeying. Liquid courage. 

A hulking human male with no hygiene standards took a swing at the smuggler. 

“That’s why!” he yelled.

Venka threw the remainder of his drink into the eyes of the Duros, and ducked out of his reach only to run head first into the Rodian from earlier.

Venka seized the first weapon his hand could reach, as the large green alien gripped his arm. A chair. 

He swung it into his opponent’s face with a satisfying crash and then ducked a punch from a short, bearded human only to get kicked in the gut by a blue Twi’lek.

He went to the ground, gasping for air as he saw Solo grasp the ankle of a Weequayan and tip him up and into several beings trying to circle Venka. 

“Thanks!” he called, grasping the shattered leg of a table and swinging it in a wide circle, clipping several of his attackers in a satisfying manner. 

“Hey, it’s what friends do!” Solo yelled back, before being tossed over the bar. He came up with several bottles in hand and threw them with some skill to impact the faces of several more fighters. 

Venka brought his knee up into the groin of the Duros and fought his way toward the entrance, along with Solo. The way was impossibly blocked, and they ended up back to back with a ring of very angry drunk opponents.

“Was this your idea of fun?” Venka tossed over his shoulder at the smuggler.

“Yes, actually!” Solo shot back. “You’re doing great!”

“You’re going to die,” hissed the Twi’lek. 

And blaster fire rained in upon them, neatly and precisely hitting five individuals in the hand or shoulder before they all scattered, yelling and screaming. 

Venka could hear a strange humming noise as well as he and Solo lifted their heads.

_ Triple and everloving kriff. _

“Not quite where I expected to find you, Venka,” said Admiral Piett, holstering his blaster.

“Expect it. He’s with Han,” sighed her royal highness, a brilliant white blade humming in her hand. 

“It was just getting good, Sweetheart. The Rear- Admiral was brilliant.”

Venka flushed under Piett’s raised eyebrow. 

“Han…..” the princess sighed, extinguishing her blade. 

“It was an  _ initiation _ ,” Solo insisted as they all made their way into the street, getting welcome breaths of fresh air. 

“And you just  _ had _ to include a fist fight?” asked Piett dryly. 

“You can come next time if you like, sir,” said Solo, and Venka had to fight the image of his Admiral trying the Corellian delight very very hard. 

Piett snorted. 

“What was the excuse for this one?” asked the princess, linking her arm in that of the smuggler.

“Ask Venka, they threw the first punch. And they insulted my Imperial friend here. I don’t let friends get insulted-- you know that, your Worship.”

Venka found himself weirdly pleased, as Piett sighed next to him. 

“Just as long as we don’t have any of these friendship ‘initiations’ on the Executor, Solo,” he admonished. 

“Yes, sir.” 


	46. Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plunging back into helping our Admiral deal with things

Piett shut off the holo message and just sat behind his desk staring at the empty spot it had occupied. 

He had not expected that. Well, yes, someday he had expected it, but this was……

….. _ too soon _ . 

And he wasn’t sure what to feel. 

He knew what he  _ ought _ to feel according to convention. But right now he was just….numb. 

And---a swift glance at the chronometer showed him---he didn’t have time to process this right now. He was due on the bridge, and then he’d scheduled an engine room inspection so his day was already incredibly long. 

He rose, reaching for his tea and knocked the cup over. He watched the dark stain flow toward the flimsi reports and automatically lifted them out of the way. But he watched the tea some more, the spicy scent filling his office.

And suddenly he had to get out. He grabbed some tissues and made an attempt at the top of his desk before ordering a cleaning droid to his office and leaving for the bridge. 

He operated on autopilot, right down to smiling on cue for insecure young ensigns, and standing at the expected places on the bridge at the expected times that he typically did. 

He handed over the bridge at the shift change to Kelly, who gave him a searching look, but was too respectful to pry, for which Piett was grateful. 

In the turbolift, he tried not to reflect. He still had a job to do. He must be focused and attentive, and that was good since it would occupy his mind, which was now trying harder to make him face this. 

The Lady flashed her indigo lights for him. 

“Thank you,” he told her, “but right now, Lady, I have my duty. There will be time……..later….”

His datapad flicked on with an image of the mess hall. His stomach did an uncomfortable twinge. 

“I really don’t feel like that, but again, thank you.” 

He knew she wasn’t happy with him, but he couldn’t face eating or casual conversation. He entered the vast engine rooms, and breathed in residual scents of coolant and plasma and allowed himself to focus on that. 

The next several hours he walked at the side of the chief engineer, listening to his assessments and suggestions, occasionally putting in his own thoughts and staying serenely on the surface of his mind and emotions, aware that beneath heaved a dark raging storm. 

But then, there was nothing left between him and facing down his memories and reflections. 

He made the swift tactical decision to retreat to his personal conference room. His own quarters were too easily breached by his friends, and he didn’t think he could face them. His control was tenuous at best. 

_ They can help you. _

He clasped his hands behind him and stared out of the viewport.

_ I have always done this alone.  _

_ You are not alone anymore, you stubborn bastard. _ And that was definitely Veers’ voice. 

_ If I let you all the way in, you will be taken from me as well. _

And her face came to his mind---worn with care and aged far too early with the hardships that life had dealt her.

_ We regret to inform you that your mother passed yesterday… _ .

And the tidal wave heaved.

**

_ “Firmus, come hold your baby sister for a moment, yes like that.” _

_ “Will she be all right mama?” _

_ Sad eyes---wells of grief. “We’ll hope that, son.” _

_ ** _

_ “Oh, Firmus. Were you fighting again?” _

_ “Yes,” he lied because it was easier for her to believe that, rather than believe he was beaten by the bullies for no reason other than he existed.  _

_ His oldest sister wiped the blood from his face and reset his nose with quick hands. Gave him some water and sat next to him while he struggled through the pain. _

_ ** _

_ She stared at his uniform. “But you’re so young.” _

_ “Yes, I’m aware. But mother….I’ll be taken care of this way. You won’t have to worry. And I can send so much more back to you.” _

_ She considered this and he saw the moment that the pragmatism, necessary in their lives, won. _

_ “Well that is true. Good luck then, my son. Let us know how you are.” _

_ He had waited, half expecting a….hug perhaps? But she had not done that since----- _

_ \---since his baby sister had died and he had seen his mother put emotional distance between herself and her offspring, resigned that they would likely die. _

_ He had turned and walked away, hoping that perhaps she would call him back, tell him she was proud…. _

  
  


Two gentle arms slid around his waist and a dark head rested on his chest. It took him a moment to be fully in the present, and bring his own arms around the warm figure embracing him.

“Dearest Admiral, I’m so very sorry,” she said looking up into his face with searching eyes. 

“I…..thank you, your highness,” he said. “How….?” But he knew how before she answered.

“The Lady informed me that your mother died.” 

He shuddered suddenly, and she drew back slightly to look him more fully in the face. 

“I am sorry, she did not wish to breach your privacy, but informed me that it had been 24 hours since you slept or ate, and that you have been here for four hours. She is concerned. She's not alone."

She raised a hand to his cheek. “Please will you talk to us?”

“Us?”

“You didn’t think we’d let you do this on your own did you, Firmus?” and Veers’ hand was warm on his back. 

Piett’s fragile grip on his control was slipping. “I…...I would have told you, I just……”

The princess was nudging him gently. “Come sit.”

He allowed himself to be maneuvered to a sofa and had a mug of -cocoa? shoved into his hands, while the princess and Veers were stalwart presences on either side of him. 

Max took over when Piett had his first sip, and the heat slid through his chest and he was reminded how long it had been since he had eaten anything. He was grateful it wasn’t tea at the moment. 

“Firmus…..some time ago, I asked you whether you believed that you had people willing to protect you. I’ve noted from the beginning ----that you clearly feel as though you must face all difficult things alone.”

_ Because I’ve had to.  _

“I’m letting you know now, in case it hasn’t been abundantly clear, that we’re not going to let you do so.” Veers’ arm was warm across his shoulders, and the princess had trapped his right hand in both of hers. 

_ If we breach this last defense, I’m afraid you will be taken from me as well. _

“Admiral,” the princess paused, gathering herself. “We three have all known great loss. I believe very firmly that we can help you, but we need to know  _ how _ . You are  _ so very loved _ . Can you trust that? Trust us?”

“I  _ do _ trust……” And Piett felt the moment his last barrier was swept away in the flood. He set the cocoa down on a table, and leaned over, elbows on his knees. “People  _ I _ love are taken from me.  _ That _ has been the constant in my life,” he said quietly. 

“Then I’d like to hear about it, Firmus.” Max, steady and supportive on his other side, and who was intimately familiar with this grief. The princess shifted in order to lean more closely into him, giving him the physical reminder that they were here to hold him up. 

“I had…..three sisters, originally,” he began. “I don’t remember my father, which I was told was just as well.”

“I wish I didn’t remember mine,” Veers muttered. Piett gave him a small smile. 

“We…..well we didn’t have much.”

_ Constant hunger. Cold nights.  _

“So as the only boy it fell on me at an early age to, well, to try and provide.”

“How early?” the princess murmured, stroking his arm.

“I was seven.”

Veers muttered something under his breath that sounded like a curse, and tightened his arm around Piett’s shoulders.

“It was rather…..  _ difficult _ . You know how the Outer Rim is. My baby sister died when she was two. And after that, my mother….” And his throat closed. He paused trying to remember that they were  _ here _ , they  _ loved _ him, there was no shame. But that old hurt of being rejected was raising its head once more….

The princess pressed some tissues into his hand, and he glanced swiftly at her to see her own eyes were brimming. “It’s all right,” she said.

He cleared his throat and swiped at his face. “My mother coped by putting distance between herself and the rest of us. I don’t blame her. It’s just…..well. Doesn’t make for the best of childhoods. Story of the galaxy really, it’s……”

“It may be the story of the galaxy, but it’s also  _ your _ story, Firmus. It may be sadly common, but it’s part of you. Don’t downplay it. I want to hear.”

The conviction in Max’s voice bolstered him.

“Anyway, my….my oldest sister and I were close, and we both managed to get jobs at the local spaceport….."

_ Laughing over lunch _

_ Finding the warm spots on the roof to watch people below _

_ Children’s dreams _

He took a breath. He had never spoken of this with anyone. “There was a spicer conflict one day when I was fourteen. She was hit by a stray blaster shot. Died in my arms….”

“ _ Kriffing hell, _ ” Veers whispered. The princess was crying silently, but did not let go of him. 

“I swore that day that I would do my utmost to stomp out the corruption that had caused such….grief. I lied about my age---no one bothered much out there anyway about those things---and joined the Axxilan fleet when I was fifteen.”

He knew his face was wet and didn’t care anymore. 

“You know most of the rest, really. The last time I was there was ten years ago when my last sister died of Ryxal flu. I send….  _ sent _ , my mother credits so that she didn’t have to work. She sent messages occasionally…..”

_ But it was rare. They could have been from a casual acquaintance.  _

Veers rose to move to the low table in front of them, moving Piett’s cooling mug over carefully before perching there. 

“I somehow doubt that we know  _ all _ the rest, Firmus, but I won’t push. Thank you for this.”

There was a pause and Piett dared to raise his eyes to look at his friend. Max was staring at him intently.

“I want you to listen very closely now, Admiral, but I’ll repeat this as many times as it takes for you to believe it. You are  _ not _ alone. Further, you have a  _ family _ . Right here. And this isn’t even all of it.”

The princess laid her head on his shoulder, watching the General as well. 

“And I think I speak for all of us when I say that you are…….remarkable. I can read between the lines pretty well, Firmus. How many stories like yours end with you being the criminal? And instead…..” Max shook his head. 

“The galaxy tossed you pile after pile of pain and somehow created the best man that I know.”

_ Max…….I think the same about you. _

He paused to look Piett in the eye. “ I know you fear losing us.”

Piett bit his lip.

_ Nightmares all too frequently on that very topic.  _

“You should know that we fear losing  _ you _ , just as much,” the princess put in softly. 

“Precisely,” Veers agreed. “So we can all let that paralyze us,  _ or _ we stick together and do our damndest to watch out for the others.”

_ Which is what he absolutely would always do….. _

“But it’s a two way street, friend of mine. You may not place this all on your shoulders,” Max said, looking at him knowingly. 

Piett flushed. “I’m…..I’ll try.”

_ He didn’t know how to do this. To just let go, and allow others to shoulder the burden with him…. _

“Do you think you could eat something?” the princess asked. 

_ Food was such a foreign concept at the moment, but it would make her happy so _ …

“If you like.”

She leaned forward and tapped in something to a datapad, then resumed her position at his side, removing his hat as she did so, and smoothing the hair at his temple and forehead with her fingers. 

Veers rose as well to remove his own hat, and slump more comfortably on Piett’s other side once more. 

“If you two have duties…..”

“You mean besides the one right here? The friendship one?” Max said, stretching his long legs out onto the table in front of them.

“I cleared my schedule for the foreseeable future,” said his princess and  _ that _ must have been a feat…..

“Everyone was absolutely all right with that because I told them it was private family business,”she added, giving him a small smile, and a strong wave of affection for her rolled over him, leaving him speechless. He put his arm around her shoulders, and kissed the top of her head instead. 

“Same,” said Max, solid and comfortable on his other side, leaning his head back on the cushions and closing his eyes. “But I don’t need a kiss for it.” 

And Piett marvelled at himself that he was able to laugh.

_ Was this what sharing the burden looked like? Was it this simple? Just being with him? _

“We’re here as long as you need us,” said the princess.

_ Forever _ , he thought. 


	47. Healing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So this follows straight on from 'Family'. I am sorry if the serious ones aren't your cup of tea as much. I promise I will be doing lighter ones next. ;)   
> However, I also like to see character growth and it's a challenge for me as a writer.
> 
> Hopefully this one gives you some catharsis as it is intended to give our dear Piett. :)
> 
> As always, I love to hear your thoughts!

Nothing had changed. 

Oh there may be new shop fronts in the small town around the tiny spaceport, and there was the local law enforcement center which hadn’t been there when he was a boy, but for all intents and purposes it was the same. 

He closed his eyes and breathed the air, dusty and warm in the summer dusk, and that too, was so familiar. 

“I found someone fairly reputable looking to take us out there,” said Veers coming up behind him. 

Piett turned, holding the simple urn firmly in one arm. “Thanks Max.” 

He was still marvelling that Veers was here. General Maximilian Veers was getting the dust of Axxila on his highly polished boots because he had insisted in no uncertain terms that he was coming with Piett. 

_ Piett had pointed out that the Admiral of the Fleet was already going to be absent, and adding the highest ranking General to that was perhaps not the wisest move.  _

_ The princess pointed out that if he didn’t allow Veers then she would order the Lady herself to take them all. He had been on the point of scoffing, when he looked around the table, and realized that every face was utterly serious. Mon Mothma, Skywalker, Venka, and all round the table, they were all giving him their support, and he nearly disgraced himself right there with the strength of his gratitude. _

_ He managed to clear his throat and agree to Veers coming with him (even managing to ignore the General’s soft ‘damn straight you do’) and then had to clench his hands under the table when Skywalker offered to pilot.  _

_ It was utterly kind, but….he realized he needed it to be just himself and Veers. The princess, next to him, had placed her hand over his very subtly and firmly, while informing her brother that she needed him here on the ship. Skywalker had looked a little too understanding, and Piett was suspicious of secret Skywalker communication between the two.  _

_ But he appreciated it.  _

_ So they had embarked in the Admiral’s shuttle, Piett discovering numerous small offerings aboard as they engaged the hyper drive and then set the auto pilot.  _

_ The princess had placed her favorite throw (it was his, but she used it whenever she was in his quarters) on one of the bunks in the hold. He assumed that Solo had sent the Corellian brandy, and Skywalker--ever thoughtful--- had given him a beautiful blue stone after inquiring briefly into the customs on Axxila. Piett would place it on the grave.  _

_ Venka was watching the fleet for him, which Piett considered gift enough, but had given him a holo image of the Lady in all her glory.  _

_ Veers came back while he was looking at it, to place a hand on his shoulder.  _

_ “Everyone is….very kind,” Piett had said. _

_ Veers gripped his shoulder firmly. “Mmm, no. Everyone  _ **_loves_ ** _ you, Firmus. Now get some kip, I’m going to read in the front.” _

_ And to Piett’s own surprise, he actually slept for eight hours.  _

  
  


And here they were, getting into an ancient, but clean speeder to be taken out to the old house. 

And he was fourteen all over again.

His mother had made some small improvements. With what he had sent, she could have moved into town and had a much nicer place. When he had suggested it years ago, in one of their rare holocalls, she had just quietly pointed out that his sisters were here. 

He never suggested it again.

Veers told the pilot to wait as Piett jumped down lightly to walk over to the front. It was tidy, though the struggling plants were losing their battle to live.

_ Like so many things on this planet…. _

And he quite suddenly didn’t want to go inside. He knew there was nothing of value there. He had his sister’s hair clip back on the Executor---the one thing she had bought for herself out of her wages to impress that one boy….

His chest was so tight. 

Veers seemed to understand. Well. He would. 

“Can you show me where they are?” he asked calmly.

And Piett led him to the back of the house. The two trees were bigger, but his oldest sister could still see the stars from where he’d placed her. 

He set the urn down on the ground and moved to the white stone that marked her place. The little one was closer to the house and his middle sister was next to her. 

The General seemed to know which one was his oldest sister’s and placed his hand on her stone. 

“You buried her?”

Piett looked at him sharply. “Yes. How did….?”

“I know  _ you _ .” Max looked at him with compassion. “What was her name?”

“Rilla,” he answered hoarsely, realizing that it was the first time he’d said her name aloud since he’d joined the Axxilan fleet. 

“Hello, Rilla,” Veers said gently, and Piett broke. 

When his storm cleared, he realized that Veers had steered them to the ground under the left tree and was just sitting next to him. 

“Sorry,” Piett managed, but the General was shaking his head.    
  


“Did you get time to do that at fourteen?” he asked. 

Piett didn’t trust himself to speak, and just shook his head. 

“You’ve had that coming for some time then,” Max told him, getting an arm around him.

_ Yes, yes he had. He felt slightly lighter for it.  _

“Can I help you dig the grave?” he asked after a moment. 

“You really don’t have to…..”

“I  _ want _ to. You did too much alone. Please let me help.” 

So he did. 

He placed the urn in the hole and once they filled it, he placed Skywalker’s stone on top.

He brushed his hands on his trousers as he rose, and looked over at Max. 

“Thank you, Veers. I….I think I’d like to walk back. By myself if that’s all right.”

It’s not, said Max’s eyes but he glanced at the blaster that Piett wore, and sighed. 

“All right, Firmus, I’ll check on the shuttle. Where should we meet?”

“There’s a fairly reputable pub---The Pilot’s Pint. Give me an hour?”

“One hour, Admiral. And then I come searching.” Veers clapped him on the shoulder and slid into the waiting speeder.

So Piett made the walk he had completed so many times, taking note of all the little landmarks and remembering…..

He had no intention of making this walk for many years to come, but he would remember it. 

In what seemed no time at all, he was entering the warm, bright pub and saw that he had indeed beat Veers by fifteen minutes. 

The tender raised his eyebrows at Piett’s uniform and was immediately overly welcoming. Piett smiled internally, remembering a time where he would have been shooed out the door. He placed his order for two beers, and found a table near the counter. He shrugged out of his jacket and placed his cap on the table. 

An inviting fire was blazing merrily at one end of the big room, casting shadows on the large wooden beams that crossed the ceiling. He moved there, soaking in the welcome warmth and watching the shapes the flames made as the bartender pulled their beers.

He heard more patrons come in, loud and raucous. Clearly this was not their first stop of the night. They placed their orders in blaring volume and he shot a swift glance to assess them. Habit now, after working in the anti-pirate fleet and then the Imperial Navy. 

Five of them, large men and one seemed vaguely familiar…..

“Admiral, sir! I have your drinks,” the tender called and he was suddenly an object of interest to the others in the room.

He moved calmly to pick up the glasses and place them on the table, aware that he was being studied. 

“Admiral, eh?” asked the leader. “Admiral  _ who _ pray tell? We don’t get  _ Admirals _ on this backwater.”

_ Kriff it. Now? Really? _

Piett sighed internally and turned, placing his hand on his blaster in clear meaning. 

“I’m Admiral Piett and, clearly, here I am on this backwater. Are we going to have a problem?”

The big man was studying him and Piett felt a sudden chill sweep through him as his eyes found the thick leather strap hanging from the man’s belt. 

It was a moment of mutual recognition. 

“I had a brat with your name working for me once….” the ugle one ruminated, a slow smile growing on his face. “You’re not all that much bigger are you now,  _ Piett _ ?”

_ Lying in the dust, his back burning…. _

“Still abusing children then?” he asked coolly, trying to calm the frantic beating of his heart as his memories threatened to swamp him. 

“Just inspiring hard work and honesty,” the other shot back, slowly removing that strap from his belt and Piett couldn’t take his eyes off of it.

Which was a mistake. 

Two of them had circled near him, and one seized his wrist as he grasped his blaster and disarmed him.

He cursed himself for an idiot, internally.

The other grasped his other arm even as the bartender protested.

“No no, not in here. He’s an  _ Imperial _ , you’ll get us all….”

“Shut up!” his old master snarled, then smiled nastily at Piett, struggling to release himself and finally relaxing in their hold.

_ He just had to make them think he’d given up, then he could slide through their grasp… _

And a blinding flash of pain cracked across his face, a familiar snap accompanying it. 

_ He’d used the strap...he’d... _

Piett felt ill, awful memories crowding his mind….

“You remember that then,” cackled the master, circling like a shark…..

And a horrifyingly familiar lance of pain swept his back, and he yanked at the hands holding him, panicking, and for a moment he was seven and helpless……

Two more blows and Piett’s training took over. 

_ Knee _ , said Veers’ voice, and he kicked out sideways to connect solidly with the man on the left, who released him with a cry of agony. 

_ Wrist _ , the General told him calmly, and Piett got both hands around the wrist of the second man, twisting and then he was free. 

He ducked under the wild swing of the master and just tackled him, years of repressed anguish fuelling him as he brought the man to the ground in a crash of table and chairs.

“You abusive bastard,”he snarled, getting in a solid right hook on the man’s jaw. 

He’d forgotten the other two. 

He was hauled back, twisting and swearing with rage, when suddenly, he was free once more, and his brain realized that he’d heard stun blasts.

Veers lowered his blaster, and his eyes swept Piett before he looked over to where the master was struggling to his feet, and Piett observed the moment that his friend saw the strap in the man’s hand and connected it with what he’d seen on Piett’s face. 

Veers tossed him the blaster, and strode into the room, straight for the man. They were equal in height, but that was where any similarity ended.    
  


“You Hutt sucking scum, you  _ dare _ raise a hand to an Admiral?”

The man spat on the floor. “He’s the same little gutter trash I taught a lesson to years ago, aren’t you….?”

Piett saw Max glow incandescent with rage, and then he was on the master, who didn’t stand a chance against an Imperial trained General. 

_ Blow after blow and something was easing in Piett’s soul. He wasn’t alone to face this….. _

Veers hauled the man up to slam his battered form against the wall. 

“ _ He _ is the Fleet Admiral of the New Republic, a hero of the Rebellion, and Darth Vader’s second in command. But most importantly you son of a Hutt, he is my friend and my  _ brother,  _ and I WILL DAMN YOU TO NINE HELLS FOR ETERNITY IF YOU TOUCH HIM AGAIN!”

Veers threw him to the ground and stepped on his arm with an audible crunch. And as the man screamed, he took the strap and threw it in the fire. He turned panting. 

“We’re leaving  _ now _ , Firmus. As in, off the planet.”

Piett blinked and then gathered himself. He found his jacket and hat, and eased it on, his back screaming at him now. He tossed the petrified bartender some credits with a murmured, ‘sorry’ and hurried to join his waiting friend.

The General stalked along silently, and Piett knew his friend well enough to recognize that he was trying to cool down. 

They were on the shuttle before Veers spoke again, rummaging for their medkit. 

“You worked for him?” he said, finding a cold pack and handing it to Piett, who placed it gratefully to his flaming face. 

“Briefly,” Piett replied, not wanting to elaborate. Veers nudged a supply crate with his foot to the middle of the hold. 

“All right, Firmus, jacket off and sit there.”

_ He really didn’t want to do this.  _

“ _ Now _ , Piett.” But Max’s voice was kind. 

He shrugged out of his jacket carefully. 

“It’s not that bad, Max…..”

“You’re bleeding through the shirt, Firmus. I think I’ll decide. Lift it up.”

Piett reluctantly obeyed, lifting his henley. 

Veers growled. 

“Kriffing hell, I should have killed him. Hold on….” And a hypospray with cool painkilling relief hissed against his skin.

“Oh  _ stars _ , thank you Max.” 

They were quiet for a moment while Veers cleaned the welts and applied bacta bandages. Piett felt him pause, and then careful fingers touched a different spot on his back.

“How old were you when he did this?”

And the Admiral knew what he saw, long healed as they were. He sighed.

“Seven.”

“Force  _ damn _ it.” The General tugged his shirt down carefully over the bandages, then snagged the throw the princess had sent and draped it around Piett’s shoulders, before shoving another crate over to sit in front of his friend. 

“Seven,” Veers whispered and Piett knew he was thinking of his son. “Who took care of it?”

“Rilla.”

“How did you get home?”

“Walked I think. Don’t remember much of that to be honest.”

“You walked two miles with a shredded back at  _ seven… _ .?”

Veers put his head in his hands, and Piett reached out to touch his knee. 

“Max, it was a long time ago.”

Veers raised his head, grey eyes blazing.

“Firmus, give me one good reason not to go back there and murder him.”

“It’s wrong?”

Veers snorted and waved a hand. “Not for this reason. Ask any judge.”

A pause. The two friends sat in the hold of the lamda and regarded each other. At last Veers placed a hand on his arm. 

“I wish I could have been there, Firmus.”

_ Piett needed him to understand however, that something had healed…. _

“Well now you….you sort of were. You were there tonight. And…. I was able to fight back this time. I can’t explain it but-----well that memory doesn’t hold the horror it used to. I have  _ this _ memory instead.”

Veers snorted.

“Yes, how wonderful.”

“It is actually.” Piett smiled at him, and moved the cold pack. Veers winced. 

“Now I’m going to remember you holding him against that wall, and…...Max do you know how amazing it was to have my family step in to defend me? Here? Against  _ him?” _

Veers considered him. Then he stood and offered Piett a hand up which he took slowly. 

“All right, Admiral. We need to give you some more positive memories. Because if one of your finest ones is me pulverizing that bastard…. “

“Max,” Piett interrupted, feeling deeply fond of his friend, “you were the first person in my life to stand up for me. And you’ve done so every day since. Fists or words, I can’t express adequately…” 

“All right,” Veers said grinning, “you don’t have to, Firmus, let’s not get me blushing—- I have a reputation to uphold.” 

Piett smiled back, winced, and replaced the cold pack. “All right, let’s go home.”

And the Executor was home, Piett reflected later, lying contentedly on his stomach in the bunk, his throw covering him. She was home in a way his planet had never been. 

Because his family—the family which had chosen _him_ , baggage and all—- was there. 


	48. An Admiral meets a General....

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry to say I do not recall who suggested this, but one of you lovely readers gave me this idea a ways back. So I had some fun with it and thank you to whoever gave me this prompt!! :)
> 
> Thank you for reading!

“Not the best time,” Luke muttered incredibly softly, so as not to be heard by the Admiral who was closely examining the large blue holo diagrams of an X-wing and a TIE. 

“You’re starting to sound like Anakin now, Luke. We can’t have that!”

“Ben……” Luke sighed, and Piett looked at him sharply through the diagram. 

“What was that, Commander?”

“Just ah….”

Obi-Wan raised his eyebrows and made a ‘go on’ gesture with his hand.

“Just talking to myself, sir,” Luke replied, and the glowing blue mentor, leaning his hip on the table next to Luke rolled his eyes.

He was working with Piett to examine all the best aspects of both fighters before them, and look at ways they could integrate those qualities into one ship. Before they took these ideas to the engineers, the Admiral had been quite clear that they should have a thorough plan, since engineers were notoriously unhappy about being told their job by mere pilots and Admirals. 

Piett was quite detail oriented (which shouldn’t surprise Luke) and also very pleasant company. The Admiral’s dry and understated sense of humor suited the young Jedi---much as he enjoyed the raucous hilarity of Rogue Squadron or Han’s completely irreverent style of mirth, Luke was quieter by nature. 

And it was, admittedly, nice to get to know the man better, given that his sister had staked her claim upon Piett, and was ready to defend him, at all times, from a cold or a blaster. And of course, his own Father had chosen him to be the Admiral of Death Squadron. Piett’s quiet, unassuming manner hid great depth and strength, which Luke had more chances to witness as time went on. 

Currently, the Admiral was very informal as they had been working some hours on this project---his jacket was over a chair, his sleeves rolled up over the elbows as he braced both arms on the table to look closely at part of the X-wing schematic. They had been having great conversation.

So, having a Force ghost pop in was just not that high on Luke’s priority list at the moment. 

“Talking to yourself? That’s the best you have?” Obi-Wan moved to stand beside Piett and crossed his arms studying the man. 

“ _ Why _ are you  _ here _ ?” Luke breathed, staring down at his data pad and confident that Ben could hear him even though he was barely moving his lips. 

“Oh, I’m not here for you, don’t get your robes in a twist.”

“Not wearing robes, Ben,” Luke muttered. “What do you mean you’re not here for  _ me _ ?” 

Obi-Wan grinned and waved a hand through the diagram that Piett was looking at. The Admiral frowned.

“See that? On some level, he noticed me.”

“People can have very mild Force sensitivity. Doesn’t mean anything.”

“Sorry, Commander what did you say?”

Piett was definitely looking suspicious now. 

“Yes, but  _ he _ has been working closely with Skywalkers for years now. It’s bound to rub off.”

“Oh for….” Luke closed his eyes and bit back the overwhelming urge to swear. 

“Skywalker, are you all right?” Piett had come around the table and was standing near him. 

“I want to talk to him,” Obi-Wan declared, placing his hands on his hips, and staring intently at Luke. 

“ _What_?” And Luke wasn’t bothering to keep his voice down anymore. “Are you kriffing insane? Scratch that---you flew with my Father so that answer is obvious.”

“Rude,” said Ben.

Piett was sharp. And this wasn’t the first time this had happened to him. 

“Ah, Skywalker, should I assume that we’re not _alone_ at the moment?” 

Luke rose, glaring at Obi-Wan across the table, who smiled and tilted his head at the Admiral. 

“No.”

“As in we’re alone….?” Piett was confused.

“Sorry, Admiral, I was talking to…..yes, you’re correct, we’re not alone.”

“I’m not leaving until you play translator, Luke. Your Father won’t do it.” Obi- wan sat in one of the chairs and placed his feet up on the table.

“Of  _ course _ my Father won’t do it! Why do you think I would?”

Piett’s eyebrows couldn’t go any higher. 

“You’re not as upset with me as he always is.”

“Ben…..”

But the Admiral was having a moment of clarity, and Luke felt his emotions shift from mildly irritated to intensely curious. 

_ Oh kriff. _ Because of course Piett wasn’t afraid---he wanted to  _ know _ . 

“Ben Kenobi is here? I should say, General Kenobi?” He was looking around the room.

“Hear that?  _ General _ . That’s the kind of respect missing from you young people these days.”

“Oh yes? The kind of respect you’re showing right now?” Luke paced away.

Obi-Wan was suddenly in front of him. “I promise to leave if you let me talk to him for ten minutes.”

Luke eyed him. “You can’t tell my Father about this.”

“About what?” Piett sounded dubious as Luke turned back to him. 

“Not you sir. Well, you too I suppose….”

“Done.” Ben’s voice rang with the sincerity of truth. 

Luke didn’t trust him for a moment. 

Luke sighed. “I’m going to regret this in some way….Admiral. General Kenobi would like to speak with you.”

“To speak…..” Piett blinked. “ _ How _ ?”

“Well, he’ll use me of course,” Luke shot Ben a disgusted look. Obi-Wan rose on his toes and grinned. 

“Sir, I am serious, I really don’t think we should tell my Father about this.”

“Mm,” Piett pondered this. “Yes, he is quite reticent to speak about Kenobi.” Luke saw the man’s curiosity win.

“Very well, what does he wish to say?”

“It’s advice really,” Obi-Wan said.

Luke relayed this.

“Oh is it?”” Piett’s tone dripped with scorn. “Also, Commander where should I be looking?”

“He’s next to me,” Luke replied with a sigh, gesturing. 

“What makes you think I need your  _ advice _ , General?”

[“Because you’ve known him as Anakin for two years, and I’ve known him as Anakin all along.”]

"Super condescending, Ben,"  Luke muttered. 

“And you feel that information helps me how?” Piett had his hands placed behind his back. 

[“Because he is utter rubbish at expressing when he needs help.”]

"Aren’t we all," Luke put in.

“Yes, I rather fail to see how that is a revelation, General Kenobi.”

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes and sighed. “I thought you were supposed to be the patient one, Admiral. I’m getting there.”

“I’m not insulting him, Ben.”

Piett raised an eyebrow and folded his arms, absolutely mirroring what Obi-Wan was doing on the other side of Luke.

He couldn’t help it and snorted a laugh. 

Both men gave him an inquiring look.

“Sorry, I’m sorry, you have to just…. You know what? This is really enlightening. My Father definitely has a specific friend criteria.” 

[“ _ Anyway… _ ..” Ben continued, “my point is, he projects that ‘don’t ask me’ attitude very strongly. Don’t make my mistakes and allow him to barricade himself. He may have been Darth Vader for you but I think you’ve shown that you’re able to breach that.”]

“Thank you?” Piett said, a little uncertain. 

Luke watched as Ben studied the Admiral.

[“You know he depends upon you in a way he never did with me.”]

“He is my commanding officer---it’s my job to be ‘dependable’,” Piett returned shrugging.

[“Mm, no I’m not talking about commander to subordinate. It’s because of who you  _ are _ . And he’s seen you as an equal for some time now.”]

Piett flushed.

Luke smiled at him. “Well we all knew  _ that _ , Ben, but thanks for reiterating it for the Admiral here.”

[“Have you had the misfortune of flying with him, Admiral?”]

Piett snorted. “Many, many times, General. Also crashed with him.  _ Not my fault. _ ”

[“Ah, but did you have to endure it through the flight paths of Coruscant? When he was mostly outside of the ship?”]

Piett’s eyes were huge. “I suppose I should say I’m surprised, but really…..Commander Skywalker here looks sensible by comparison. You’re not of course,” Piett clarified, turning to him with a little smile. 

It was Luke’s turn to raise an eyebrow. 

“I’m sorry, Commander, but you _are_ a Skywalker. The only sensible one among you is your sister.”

Obi-Wan and Luke coughed skeptically at the same time. 

“Leia had us escape the Death Star by shooting out a grate to get in the garbage chute. Han had to literally  _ drag _ her out of Echo Base on Hoth, or it would have come down around her!”

Piett looked slightly ill at this reminder of how close that had been.

“Sorry sir, just…..I don’t know that  _ she’s _ the sensible one.”

“Well,  _ comparatively _ , he has a point….” Ben mused.

“Really? You’re going to gang up on me?”

“I take it General Kenobi is in agreement with my assessment then,” Piett said, managing to project smugness without losing his polite expression. The man was unfairly skilled at that.

_ All right then Admiral, if that’s how you want to play it….. _

“Yes, sir, he is, but he may not be in possession of all the facts. After all, I believe it was you who ordered the Executor to…..what was it? Play ‘Axxilan chicken’ with the Rebel fleet?”

Obi-Wan turned a supremely interested gaze on the Admiral, who was flushing slightly once more, but standing his ground.

“That was a  _ combat _ scenario, Skywalker and it worked…..”

“I’m just saying that most of our scenarios were combat as well, sir. One might almost suspect that you have a bit of a dared….”

Piett put up a hand. 

[“He  _ does _ ," breathed Ben, grinning widely. “Oho! Well, maybe I should be talking to Veers about balancing you all out.”]

Piett scowled horribly at the space next to Luke. “We are not involving the  _ General _ in this! And I take exception to being called….”

“It’s a compliment sir,” Luke interrupted hastily. “And if you think about it, it does make sense. You are part of this family after all.”

“Got him there,” stated Ben as Piett opened his mouth and shut it again, now a bright red, but clearly deeply pleased--- torn between protesting this slight on his character, and enjoying the fact that he belonged. 

“Well…..we’ll ah, leave that for the time being. I have a question for you, General Kenobi.”

[“Fair enough.”]

“His Lordship never speaks of you if he can help it. Everything I have been able to find in regard to the time before he became Lord Vader, indicates that you two were quite close. What…..?”

Obi-Wan shook his head, his face sad. Luke was exceedingly curious as well. His Father refused to discuss Obi-Wan. Clearly something traumatic had happened there.

[“Ah that, Admiral is one that you are going to have to discover for yourself. And if anyone has a chance at getting him to discuss it, you might just be the man.”]

“Hey!” Luke put in. “Shouldn’t he be talking to me about it too?”

“Perhaps in time Luke, but this topic…..well. Anakin needs a friend, not his son for it. Particularly as he still sees me as the kidnapper that took you from him.”

Oh.  _ Oh _ . 

“So is this one of those topics that I ah, should pursue?” Piett asked carefully. 

[“It will be made clear to you when you should press him on the subject.”]

Piett frowned slightly.

“Really Ben?” Luke sighed, “You’re giving him vague Force advice? If you tell him to look at it from a certain point of view….”

Obi-Wan grinned. “That one is just for you. I know you love it so.”

[“Admiral. I failed Anakin. You never have. Continue being the man you are. Your judgment appears sound. Well, except for throwing in with this lot….”]

“Hey!” Luke said.

“Well.” Piett put his hands on his hips and smiled back. “That was the best decision I ever made. And one that you clearly made as well, General.”

[“Touche’.”]

“I think he might be my favorite non-Force user,” Ben said. “I’ll be back to chat with him again.”

“No,” said Luke with growing dread. “No Ben….”

And he grinned and disappeared.


	49. The Doctor Is In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because Cmdrtekk cannot stop having good ideas apparently, here we are. As always I am indebted for these prompts and this was fun to write.   
> Turned into one of my longer one shots, but well....I had terrific fun with it so we'll all have to deal. ;)  
> Enjoy!

“I don’t see why we have to do this at all let alone planet side,” Piett growled. He knew he was in a foul mood, stalking along at Veers’ side in the light drizzle covering the Capitol planet. 

Piett hated Coruscant. He always had, having utterly no patience for the corruption that seemed to be part of its very core. 

Add to that some truly awful experiences here, plus the meeting he had just finished, and he came out with a  _ mood _ .

Veers lifted an eyebrow at him, but was understanding. It was why he had agreed to walk to this state of the art hospital, and not take a speeder for the two miles they needed to cover. 

“You know how Henley loves to be a mini-Palpatine sometimes. But, I think he just wants as much time as possible in this facility. And….how long has it been since your last physical?”

“Remember my injuries of a few months ago?” Piett grumbled.

“Your last  _ official _ physical as Admiral of the Fleet?”

“Mmm. Don’t recall.” 

_ Because he avoided them like a dead bantha, thank you very much.  _

“Same for mine. So, he really can declare us unfit for duty, and there would be nothing anyone could do about it, be it Lord Vader or Mon Mothma. Now, Firmus, why don’t you tell me what is bothering you much more than the physical requirements?”

Piett sighed and gathered himself. “Having to justify myself and my ship for every screw and deck plate just about sent me round the Kessel run. And yes, I know, the New Republic has to watch the purse very carefully, but one would think that upkeep of the Executor would be rather high on the priority list as the best defense in the galaxy.”

“Yes, well you’re talking with politicians, not military personnel. Were you able to get what we needed for the Lady?”

“Yes, though I thought my blood pressure might explode if Senator Fey’lya snapped the ‘t’ at the end of my name one more time….you know the way that he does.”

Veers nodded. He had been present before when the Bothan Senator addressed them. 

“‘Perhaps, you believe the New Republic to be founded on a planet of credits, Admiral PietT’,” Piett snarled. “Or, ‘that may have been true in the days when you worked for the Empire, PietT but that is not who you serve now’.”

Veers snorted. “He said that? In front of the princess?”

“His caf cup did tip over rather fortuitously I thought,” Piett responded thoughtfully. The memory was pleasing as he was certain the princess had done it, whether deliberately or not, well…..

“How did her highness take the meeting?” Veers glanced up as a streetlight above them came on in the gathering twilight.

“She was actually quivering at one point. It was probably what helped me to keep my own calm. I was busy making sure she didn’t lose _hers_.” 

Piett had reached a hand over to place on hers under the table, when he observed a crack appear in the arm of her chair as they sat around the massive council table. The amount of fussing and tiddling over details was always difficult, but there were several Senators, the Bothan among them, who made these meetings on occasion, virtually unbearable. 

In this particular instance, when they were the ones needing to ask rather than bestow, it was rather hard. And Fey’lya had a particular hatred for anything Imperial. It was somewhat understandable given the Bothan sacrifice for the war effort, but damn it, how much did Piett have to sacrifice before he was accepted as having the new government’s best interests at heart?

The Bothan made sure to veil his insults very thinly indeed, and Mon Mothma had actually reproved him in this meeting for questioning how much they really needed Anakin Skywalker’s advice. His commander had not been present, but Piett had felt the need to defend him anyway, and pointed out calmly that utterly no one else had the knowledge that his lordship did on the nature of the Executor. 

_ Do you have any of your own thoughts, Admiral PietT, or do you just parrot your commander’s? _ The Senator had asked, after four hours of discussion.

The small form beside him had hissed and gripped his hand so tightly it hurt. Which probably kept him from saying something he would regret.

_ “Those are my thoughts, Senator,” Piett had replied as evenly as he could. “I have some experience with the matter, being first her Captain and currently her Admiral.”  _

But. 

They had what they needed and the Executor would receive the upgrades she deserved at Kuat.

Piett had a tremendous headache to show for it, though the cool air outside was helping. That, and Veers’ patient ear.

“So where is the princess?” the General asked. “I rather thought you might skive off after the meeting was over and get much needed drinks.”

“Max,” Piett was reproving. “We would absolutely have commed you to join us if that was the case.”

Veers chuckled. 

“I’m reasonably sure she’s somewhere in the Imperial gardens lopping the heads off of any remaining Palpatine statues she can find.”

“Really?” Veers was amused and incredulous.

Piett smiled. “Oh really. I somewhat wanted to watch, but I found a range instead.”

His blaster was at his side. He had been assured that the Capitol planet was so very safe and civilized. He begged to differ. Especially after this meeting. 

“Well.” Veers was thoughtful. “It’s not all that late. Let’s sail through these physicals, and grab drinks afterwards. Or range. You choose.”

“Veers, I love both those ideas, but I would like to do them up on the Devastator and not on this Force damned planet.”

Venka was playing host to them at the moment, with the Lady in Kuat. 

“All right then. Ah, here we are.” And they paused in front of a massive white building, gleaming with newness against the darkening sky and the glow of the streetlights. 

“Henley said the front entrance would be fine. The scanners are programmed to recognize us even though it’s after hours.”

Both men approached and indeed, the blue scanner swept them, and the doors slid open noiselessly. 

The massive lobby smelled of new plastic and metal as well as medical cleanliness. 

“It is rather impressive,” Piett reluctantly admitted, gazing up at the glorious Rilaxan glass chandelier above them. It had to be as large as a TIE fighter. 

“It’s a medical facility,” said Veers shortly and Piett was reminded why Veers hated them so much, having spent too much time in them as his wife lay dying. 

He placed a hand on his friend’s arm in understanding as a familiar irate voice called from above them.

“Well. About time. I was getting ready to mark you unfit.” Henley’s head appeared over the smooth white railing three stories above them.

“We’re two minutes past time,” Piett told him, his voice echoing in the atrium.

“Quite. I expect more punctuality from an Admiral. And you’re  _ wet _ . You  _ walked _ here? What is wrong with you two? Aside from the obvious?”

“Force give me strength,” Veers muttered next to him.

“All right, come up, the good people here are already doing us a mighty favor by allowing us after hours. They haven’t even opened officially yet. That’s why it’s so quiet.”

All information that he didn’t care about, reflected Piett as he and Veers approached the massive white stone staircase and began to make their way up to the impatient Doctor. 

“There’s a room this way,” Henley said. “This facility is marvellous. It holds all the state of the art equipment and they’re storing all the latest drugs here as well to treat…..”

The lights went out. A moment later the emergency power kicked back on.

“I’m guessing that’s not helpful,” Veers said.

“Well, we can always postpone the physicals….” Piett put in hopefully.

“Not a chance, Admiral, you will notice the emergency power is on. You’re having a physical.”

“Seems a bit odd for the power in such a new building to…..” Veers trailed off as a group of masked individuals dropped from the vent to the floor in front of them. 

For a moment there was silence. 

Then Piett was shoving Henley to the floor and drawing his blaster. 

The men in front of them had weapons but didn’t draw them. Instead they went low and tackled the Imperial officers.

Well, it had been a while since he’d had this kind of fight. Given the meeting he’d just had, maybe he needed this.

Piett fought back viciously, aware of Veers scything through men like grass near him, and Henley against a wall, wisely staying out of it.

Piett had taken down two opponents and realized they were near the head of the massive staircase. If he could make it down to the bottom, he could raise the alarm on the street…..

….and a huge form (likely a Weequay) was coming at him. Piett rolled onto his back and kicked up, sending the alien over his head, using his own momentum against him. But in that moment, another intruder grasped his leg in large furred paws and  _ twisted… _ .and Piett heard the crack, moments before he fell down the white stone steps.

He was unconscious before he hit the bottom.

  
  


****

“Firmus!” Veers roared as his friend went tumbling down the stairs. 

_ Kriffing hell he was falling hard. _

Veers finally got his hand on his blaster and fired into the gut of his opponent before taking down the remaining three still standing.

Panting, he looked around. Five down but breathing, four dead. It seemed like a small crew. What were they after? But he could worry about that later.

“Henley!” he called, moving as swiftly down the stairs toward his friend as he could. Piett lay in a huddle at the bottom, unmoving.

“What on earth did they want?” Henley asked standing and coming to the top of the stairs.

“Don’t really care at the moment,” Veers snapped over his shoulder. “You wanted to give him a physical? Looks like you are getting a good one.”

The doctor, to his credit, hurried down to join him and felt carefully around his friend’s joints and bones before turning him on his back. 

Piett had a large swelling lump on his forehead, but the real concern…..

“Hells,” Veers said, as Henley, surprising him, produced a knife from a pocket and sliced Piett’s trouser leg below the left knee. Between the boot and his knee, his leg was unmistakably broken. 

“Tibial spiral fracture,” the doctor was muttering, “contusion on the head, but not as severe as I think it could have been. All right, General, you’re big enough, get him into a fireman’s carry and bring him back up. I’ll deal with this in one of the smaller surgeries.”

“I need to alert the authorities about this break in as well,” Veers told him, whipping out his comlink.

Henley blinked at him. “Oh, yes, right, I suppose that’s important too.”

Well, he was a doctor first.

“Veers to….” And they heard a sound further into the atrium.

He shared a look with the doctor, then bent and got his friend onto his shoulders as carefully as he could before they moved swiftly back up the stairs. They had just made it to the top when they heard voices below, and both he and Henley ducked behind the white railing. 

_ Kriff. Of course there were more. What were they here for? _

Henley motioned further down the corridor, around the bodies that he and Piett had just taken down. Cautiously, they moved forward, getting a good distance away before the railing ended in solid wall and they were able to stand and move more swiftly. 

“We should get as far as possible,” Veers hissed. 

“We’ll get as far as I can get us into a surgery, General. I’m treating that leg before we’re dealing with an open fracture.”

“Fine.” He couldn’t argue with that. 

Henley palmed a door and they slid inside, the emergency lighting casting a strange glow on everything.

“Place him on that table, Veers.”

He obeyed, carefully, sliding Piett off of his shoulders and laying him flat out. 

“Explain to me,” the doctor hissed in a low voice, “how it is that these things always happen around you two!” He reached out to snag a laser scalpel and cut away the Admiral’s boot. 

Piett would be unhappy, he hadn’t had them all that long. Then Henley was rummaging in a drawer and something came sailing at Veers.

“Give him that, right above the knee.”

“This doesn’t always happen to  _ us _ , Doctor!” Veers obeyed as he spoke, pressing the hypospray of what he assumed were painkillers into Piett’s leg. “We work with Skywalkers and Darth Vader. I would think you’d notice  _ that _ as the more common denominator.”

Henley snorted. “Yes, but you  _ chose _ to work with them. If that doesn’t tell you something….” He had slit Piett’s trouser leg and was examining the swelling around the break. 

“Hells.”

“What?” Veers asked, trying to suppress the dread pooling in his stomach.

“I was right. Spiral displaced. It’s going to need surgery, I can’t just pop it into place. I’m not a magician you know.”

Veers wanted to point out that no one had asked him to be a magician, but decided he could control the urge.

“Well, do  _ something _ ,” he said in a low voice and they both froze as running feet came thundering by the door.

“What’s on this floor, Doctor? Any idea what they’re after?” he whispered.

“I only just toured this building today, General, do you expect…..?” He trailed off. “They’re keeping all the latest drugs here. They were moved here yesterday. No one should know that and the building has top security…..”

“Oh yes, top,” Veers agreed dryly. “Where are they stored?”

“Several floors. Billions of credits worth…..”

“We’re going to have to move around to avoid detection then,” Veers said, looking down at his unconscious friend. “Because I have a feeling that we’re dealing with a large gang here.”

“Well then. What are you waiting for?” Henley asked, moving across the room for splint supplies. “Call back up!!” 

_ Damn it he hated feeling stupid around the doctor. _

“Veers to Devastator, come in please.”

A pause.

“Devastator here, General…..”

“Get me the Rear-Admiral immediately.”

“Sir, he’s not availab….”

“It’s an emergency, do as I say!” 

“Yes sir.”

Veers watched Henley move swiftly back to Piett’s side and begin to stabilize his leg. 

“Veers, what is it?”   
  


“Not much time, Venka. Get local security over to this location. You’re tracing this signal?”

“Yes. What the hell….?”

“Likely a robbery, but it’s armed and we’re stuck in the building.”

“Because of course you are.”   
  


“Et tu, Venka? Just get them here!” 

“On it, Veers. Are you….?”

But Veers had shut it off. Footsteps had stopped outside the door. He drew his blaster and moved to stand behind it. Henley, in full view of whoever was coming in, gave him a blazing glare. Veers glared back, willing the cantankerous old fusspot to understand.

The door hissed open and a blaster rifle poked in pointing at Henley, who raised his hands. The finger tightened on the trigger, and then Veers had neatly snagged the gun and broken the wrist of the owner, before swinging around the door to bring the rifle to bear on the others following.

“Finish that splint, Doctor!” he shouted over his shoulder. He finished off the others and stopped firing, listening for the alarm. None yet, but it would be a matter of time. He heard a sound and half turned to see the man whose wrist he’d broken, pointing a blaster at him and kriff what a  _ newbie _ mistake to forget him, he brought the blaster rifle up, knowing it was futile…..

….and a shot was fired. He jerked, then watched dumbly as the man toppled over, shot in the throat.

Veers spun around. Piett was leaning up on his elbow, his other arm extended and holding his smoking blaster steady. 

“Hell of a way to wake up,” the Admiral commented, pale but present. Veers grinned. 

“I don’t care what anyone says---the navy is all right in my book.” 

“Well _thank_ you, General.”

“All right, honestly, we need to move, you said so yourself Veers.” Henley pocketed several syringes and supplies, then turned to Piett.

“I’m sorry Admiral, it’s just not going to be pleasant no matter how many pain killers you have.”

“Here.” Veers draped a blaster rifle over Henley’s shoulder.

“I am not one of your dirt pounders, Veers….”

“Currently you are, Doctor. I’ll take point. Piett can you shoot with one arm? Henley can help you.”

The Admiral was in the act of sliding off the table, and getting support from the Doctor. He paused to give his friend a deeply offended look.

“Can I shoot with…..? What do you think I just  _ did _ ?” Veers grinned wickedly at him.

“Doctor, we’re going to have to rely on your memory of the building I’m afraid. Where should we go?”

“Well thankfully, my memory is fantastic, General. We should go up a couple floors. They shouldn’t contain anything too valuable, and they’re not likely to look there.”   
  


“Unless they’re looking for us,” Veers muttered.

“It’s what I appreciate about you, General,” Henley said in his primmest tones. “Your endless optimism.”

“Wait,” said Piett, pausing to catch his breath as he took his first hop toward the door. “ _ Force _ that’s….mm. Anyway, shouldn’t we be trying to  _ stop _ this robbery?”

Veers and Henley leveled him with identical looks. 

“Firmus, I love that you are a noble and wonderful soul, but you may have noticed that you have a …..what is it Doctor?   
  


“A displaced spiral tibial fracture.”

“Precisely. They can rob all they want. Our top priority is keeping you alive.”

Henley was offended. “Just the Admiral?”

“Maybe you too, if you can stop with the cynicism.”

“Not likely,” Piett said under his breath. 

“Not arguing about this----let’s go,” said Veers. 

_ Honestly of all people to get stuck with in the middle of a massive armed robbery, he had to have Henley. And Piett with a broken leg….. _

He peered around the door frame and motioned to the other two. As quickly as they could they made their way to the nearest turbo lift. Once inside, Henley punched a button and they began to rise. 

“Who do we think is behind this?” Piett asked softly, his arm slung over Henley’s shoulder, and other hand firmly grasping his blaster. “Because it feels rather large scale.”

“No idea Firmus, and I’m not too keen on playing detective at the moment,” Veers replied. “I contacted Venka, so we’re hoping the cavalry is on its way….”

The doors hissed open to a quiet and darkened floor. Veers did a quick check, then motioned forward.

They were roughly halfway down the corridor when they heard the muffled sound of an explosion somewhere below them.

Piett exchanged a look with the General.

“How large scale are we talking?” Henley hissed, struggling slightly to help keep the Admiral upright but forging on. 

“I’m rethinking that at the moment,” Veers snapped.  _ If they were breaking into things with explosives….. _

“We might have a problem….” came Piett’s soft tones and Veers looked over at him sharply.

The Admiral nodded his head toward a sign near one of the doors in the long corridor.

_ Authorized personnel only: Classified drug samples _

Oh well,  _ perfect _ .

“I thought you said they didn’t have anything sensitive up here!” Veers growled at the Doctor.

“I did not claim to have a photographic memory, General!!”

“Not helping,” interjected Piett, assessing the corridor. “We really need to get out of this building…”

And suddenly blaster fire was lancing their way.

_ So much for subtlety. _

“Henley…!” Veers shouted, but the Doctor was already moving toward a curve in the corridor…

_ Damn, there was almost no cover and he didn’t do well running backwards.. _ .

After too many near misses, they made it past the curve and the Doctor, panting heavily, helped Piett slide to the floor, his back against the wall.

Veers took up a position across from them and further down. “Henley!” he called. “You’re going to have to use that rifle!!”

“I’ve only ever been hunting, General, I’m no marksman really.”

“Well it’s about time you admitted to some weakness.”

_ If Henley could market his look as a weapon, Veers could retire with the credits. _

Shots were splattering the floor and walls around them.

_ It would take more than that to frighten them out of here, _ Veers thought grimly. A shot splattered over his head.

_ How the hell _ ….?

And Piett was firing behind them, and Veers knew they were cut off.

_ Kriff _ .

Suddenly a thermal detonator rolled into their space. There was a beat as his eyes met Henley’s, then the Doctor surged from his spot, gripping the blaster rifle like a grav golf stick and he swung, sending the detonator arcing neatly back the way it had come. The explosion shook the hallway. 

Screams and yells accompanied this and Veers took the opportunity it afforded to whip around and help Piett in firing at the thieves behind them, about 30 yards away. 

“That was well done, Doctor!” Veers yelled.

“Yes I thought so too,” Henley returned.

_ Kriffing hell the man was incorrigible. _

“This is not looking good!” Piett called over. “I think I should try to hold them off while you….”

  
  
“Shut up, Admiral! You know better by now---it’s both or none.”

He could feel Piett’s combined frustration and gratitude, but his friend was right….things were rather dire…..

And suddenly, full power surged back on, startling all the combatants right before a hail of fire on both ends of the corridor was raining in…..but it was blue. 

Stun blasts.

The cavalry had arrived. 

And at its head….

“We really can’t let you two go anywhere can we?” asked Solo, holstering his blaster and shaking his head at the destruction around him.

“ _ Why _ does everyone insist the common denominator is myself and the Admiral?  _ Skywalkers _ , Solo.”

“None of whom were here for this,” the princess said, stepping around her smuggler, and making her way to Piett as the local law enforcement moved in to take the living thieves into custody.

“Admiral, really, if you’d wanted to take out your frustration with the meeting, there were more than enough statues to go around.” But she smiled as she knelt by him for a swift embrace.

“I’m glad that General Solo understands the situation, Veers,” said Henley at his most snide. “Don’t you dare help him up, your highness!”

“Pardon me?” she said in her most regal tones, and Veers was gratified that even Henley had to temper himself around the small princess.

“ _ He _ is going to wait for the proper medical transport, princess. It’s a bad break and once we’re cleaned up? Surgery.” He was leveling a finger at both the Admiral and the princess.

Piett sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Can we please at least do it on the Devastator, Doctor?”

“Well, this facility…..” Henley began and stopped short when both Veers and the princess leveled fierce looks at him. He glanced at the Admiral and softened ever so imperceptibly.

Veers raised a knowing eyebrow at him.

“Very well, Admiral, don’t give me that,  _ General _ . ‘Iron Max’ indeed, utter drivel when it comes to him…..” he grumbled

“Thank you, Doctor,” Veers said smiling.


	50. Working together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So after getting some great commentary from Epicreader, this idea zipped into my head and wouldn't leave.
> 
> Just a little snapshot from the sidelines of how things are going with the unification of the two fleets.
> 
> Thanks for the idea! :)

Venka tugged at the collar of his dress uniform for the umpteenth time. When he was a much younger officer, he had been deeply pleased for reasons to wear it. He had felt very important and resplendent. Now however, he found it a bit stiff and, due to it being white, he was terrified of getting red wine or sauce down his front the whole evening.

He had done his duty for the event. Danced a few dances, talked to reasonably important people, and so felt that he had earned some time to retire on the sidelines with a plate of truly excellent appetizers, and a glass of wine (white, for reasons mentioned above). 

He looked around the vast ballroom---apparently one of many in Theed, and happily caught another distinctive white uniform on the sidelines that he recognized.

He homed in on Kelly, and realized that he had several other men sitting with him. But the Captain had spotted him and waved him over. He had clearly enjoyed the wine, and was pleasantly flushed and content with the world.

“Sir! Join us won’t you?”

Venka moved over to them, and one of the junior officers rose to pull out a chair courteously. He didn’t recognize the younger three, but the fighter Captain seemed familiar….

“Sir,” said Kelly, still aware enough for good manners, “this is Captain Wedge Antilles, who heads Rogue Squadron. And some of our younger former Rebel friends, Lieutenants Casey, Mylex, and Scraps.”

Venka raised an eyebrow at the last one as he sat down and the young lieutenant shrugged his shoulders.

“Actually his name,” said Antilles, smiling.

“Makes for a good call sign, sir,” Scraps said resignedly.

“Gentlemen, this is Rear-Admiral Venka,” said Kelly, and he was still not used to the impressed glances when he was introduced. 

“Good to meet you all. Captain Antilles, I believe we have worked from afar together, but it’s a pleasure to see you face to face.”   
  


“Likewise, sir,” replied the dark haired pilot, enjoying a sip of his whiskey. 

“Why aren’t you all out at the dance floor or the buffet tables?” Venka asked, biting into a pastry and immediately wishing he had grabbed two more. 

“Did my duty there sir,” replied Antilles. “Besides I’m running drills for the junior pilots tomorrow, so it wouldn’t do for me to be squinting the whole time.”

Venka grinned.  _ Some of their former Rebels had a better sense of discipline than others it seemed.  _

“And you, gentlemen?” he asked, turning to the lieutenants.

“I got turned down,” sighed Scraps, and the other two snickered.

“I’m a terrible dancer,” replied Casey.

“And my date is powdering her nose which means she’s chatting with her friends. It should take at least 30 minutes,” responded Mylex, enjoying some sort of purple fruit. 

“Well, why didn’t you ask someone else, Lieutenant Scraps?” asked Venka and the others all grinned once more.

“I’m working back into it, sir.”

“We had a bet, you see, sir, that I would ask the princess…..”

Venka exchanged amused looks with Kelly.

“....and I lost. She was very polite, but  _ apparently… _ .” Here he glared at his compatriots. “She has a certain dance card at these functions which these two kr----that is these two  _ gentlemen _ already knew about.”

“Well, don’t take it too hard, Scraps,” said Kelly kindly. “I don’t think she’d dance with me either.”

Venka looked out at the dance floor. Currently, Skywalker was whirling his sister around, but it was rather haphazard and…..

His face must have said it all because Antilles nodded at him. “Luke’s terrible, no question. Still, he feels it’s his filial duty. Ah, there, she’s getting a rescuer.... Well!”

“Did you know Veers danced?” Kelly asked Venka, raising his eyebrows. Venka was grinning into his glass at the the image of the tall general and the tiny princess, but had no criticisms on their skill.

“Now I do.”

The three younger officers suddenly stiffened and gaped openly, and Venka realized that Skywalker had paused at their table.

“Hi Wedge. Evening all!”

“Commander Skywalker, sir,” squeaked Mylex. “Good morning. Evening! Good evening!”

Venka enjoyed more glances with the others, but as usual the young Jedi was kind.

“Hello, lieutenant. Wedge, I just wanted to say the Rogues are doing a group holo over by the entryway in 30 minutes.”

The Captain saluted his friend with his glass. “Thanks Luke, I’ll be there.”

_ Luke _ , mouthed Scraps. Venka sighed internally. Even at the higher levels of command, there was a lot of work to be done on the discipline.

“My question is, does the Admiral dance?” Antilles was saying to Kelly, who was swallowing his drink and pointed wordlessly with his glass.

Venka followed their gaze to see that the princess had indeed changed partners, and was clearly very happy and content in Piett’s arms as they moved smoothly along the floor.

“I have to say,” Antilles stated, looking over at Venka and Kelly, “ _ that _ is not something I would have even  _ joked _ about happening two years ago! Yet here we all are, quite friendly with Death Squadron.”

Venka smiled and raised his glass to the Captain. 

“So that’s Admiral Piett,” said Casey, still staring. “He’s much shorter than I thought.”

“What were you expecting?” Venka asked, slightly amused.

“Well, just….I’ve heard a few rumors sir, and…” Casey was blushing. 

_ Yes, he could imagine. Piett had no idea the sort of legend he was becoming. _

“Is it true he was alone on the bridge of the Executor when she came between us and the Imperial fleet, sir?” asked Scraps. 

Antilles had his eyebrows raised skeptically. Venka snorted. 

“Not quite, Lieutenant. You’re not far off though.”

“Sir….” Scraps was looking at Venka consideringly. “I’ve just been posted to the Executor’s TIE group sir. I don’t suppose you’d be willing to tell us a bit about Death Squadron and what it’s like to work with...with the Admiral and the General...and…” he lowered his voice “... _Darth_ _Vader_?”

Kelly snorted and rolled his eyes.

Venka pondered. It was still taking some getting used to, this merging of the fleets. But perhaps it would help continue to smooth their working relationships if he gave some history to these young officers. They were celebrating the second anniversary of the Battle of Endor after all. And he didn’t mind encouraging respect for Piett---the man was ridiculously modest--or Veers. The last…

“Well, I have to be honest Lieutenant, I only worked closely with Darth Vader for a brief time.”

_ A brief and terrifying time being in charge of the fleet and praying their kidnapped Admiral was still alive….. _

He shook himself and had a drink of wine.

“But still…..did you know that he was Commander Skywalker’s Father then? Or the princess’s?” asked Mylex eagerly.

Antilles was doing a better job of hiding his interest, but he could tell the Rogue Captain wanted to hear. Very well.

He looked out to the dance floor. Solo had reclaimed the princess, and was sweeping her around with no style whatsoever, but she seemed to like it. Veers and Piett were enjoying a whiskey together on the side, by the looks of things, and appeared more relaxed than he’d seen them in some time. 

“I had no idea about that at the time of Endor, Lieutenant. I knew we were working with Commander Skywalker in some capacity to ah, retrieve our Admiral, but that was all. Later, I worked more closely with Admiral Piett as we prepared for Endor.”

“So what’s he like?” asked Scraps.

“Which one?” Kelly returned, frowning at his empty glass as if blaming it for being that way. 

“Well, the Admiral. Though Veers…”   
  


“ _ General _ Veers,” Venka stressed mildly. 

“Yes, sir, I’d love to hear about General Veers as well.”

“The Admiral is made of steel I think,” said Kelly. Venka shot him a look, but Kelly didn’t seem to be in danger of having had enough to wax  _ too _ lyrical so he allowed it. 

“He is as you noted, not very tall, but I promise you forget that if he’s reaming you out for a mistake. He’s very fair, however. Doesn’t expect anything of you that he wouldn’t require of himself when it comes to duty. Actually, he goes far above and beyond on that front. I don’t know that any of us could equal that.”

“Were you on the bridge of the Executor at Endor, sir?” Casey asked Kelly.

“No. I’d been injured when those bast----sorry, Rear-Admiral---when the Emperor's men took over the ship. I was under guard in one of the sickbays until the ship was retaken, and then I was helping down in the bays.    
  


“Only the Admiral knows exactly what happened on the bridge there. Maybe a few others. He doesn’t like to talk about it,” said Venka.

“It was something to watch, sir,” put in Scraps. “I was flying defense for Home One and when the Death Star blew…..he got the angle just right to let her ride that wave.” He took a drink, remembering.

“Yes, he is rather remarkable,” agreed Venka, recalling that moment as well, and meeting Antilles’ understanding eyes. From his perspective it had been terrifying. 

“What of General Veers, sir?” asked Mylex, watching the man in question as he said something to Piett, who laughed.

“Iron Max….” put in Casey.

“Mmm. Not that you should _ever_ be heard calling him that."

Casey flushed again.

"Yes, the General is not what I would call a friendly man, certainly. But he is one of the bravest I know, and most loyal," said Kelly. 

“Something you need to understand, Gentlemen,” Venka said, watching the two men he respected most. “That right there, those two, they are the heart and soul of Death Squadron. Do not ever forget that. If you’re not sure what to do, you look at their example. The Admiral wouldn’t cut corners or rest on his rank. Hells, I’ve seen him on his back rewiring a console on the Lady personally.”

He smiled at the memory. “And General Veers won’t ever take excuses. You accept responsibility for yourself and your men.”

The three young ex-Rebels were looking at him very seriously. 

“Respect your ship and your fellow crewman, because that’s what he does. He takes care of his people.”

“Which very much includes the Admiral,” put in Kelly.

Venka nodded. “Which absolutely includes the Admiral, who as you have noted, will personally stand between whatever they’re throwing at us, and his fleet.”

“I would add, if I may,” interjected Antilles, “how much I’ve appreciated an excellent example right there, of how our different branches should be working together. It has been enlightening for me to meet some of the pilots of the AT-ATs and discuss tactics and how we can better work together.”

“Have you met General Veers, sir?” Lieutenant Casey asked.

“I have worked with him a few times,” Antilles admitted. Venka smiled again as the three junior officers were clearly deeply impressed. A young lady came up to their table, and Mylex rose. 

“Thank you very much, gentlemen. Rear-Admiral, it was an honor to meet you, sir.”

Venka tipped his glass. The other two lieutenants glanced at each other. 

“Well….we should push off too,” said Casey. “Great to meet you, sir.”

“Sir,” said Scraps.

Venka sat back and looked at the other two at the table with him.

“How many of our former Rebel friends, do you suppose, are surprised to discover that Death Squadron is composed of beings just as the Alliance is?” he asked, enjoying his wine.

Antilles snorted. “Most of them I imagine. We’re still overcoming a lot of propaganda, Rear-Admiral, some exaggerated, and some, sadly….not so much."

“Indeed. What is your assessment, Captain? Are we making good headway in this…. _ unification _ process?”

Antilles glanced over at Veers and Piett again, and Venka noted that Skywalker had joined them.

“Since it is coming very effectively from the top down, yes, Rear-Admiral, I think we are. It’s taking time of course, but if all of us division commanders and starship captains,” he nodded at Kelly who acknowledged it, “can help with that, I think we’ll get there.”

“And evenings like this are good for morale,” added Kelly. 

“Though not my waistline,” sighed Antilles, and Venka chuckled. 

He needed a few more pastries.


	51. Piett and Veers hear the tale of the garbage chute (among other things)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, it just felt time for the Admiral and the General to hear how everyone met. Spoiler alert: Veers is very unimpressed with the Death Star. ;)
> 
> Piett is very... unimpressed with Tarkin.

He was alive. She reminded herself of that every hour or so. He was alive, he was here, and she needed to get her work done.

But her gaze would be dragged back to him like a magnet, even as she tried to read the update from Mon...

It had been so terribly close.

_ Chewie roaring into the comms. _

_ The Falcon dipping less gracefully than usual into the hangar bay, the ramp coming down before she had completely come to rest.  _

_ The Wookie sprinting out with Han in his arms….he’d moved so fast that Henley and his team met up with him in the corridor before whisking her smuggler off to sickbay, and she had to follow, if only to explain to an unsettled medical crew that the Wookie needed the decontamination showers so he could get the blood---the blood---out of his fur. _

_ And then the wait.  _

_ Piett had come down briefly to inquire about Han’s condition, and give her a much needed hug. He was in the midst of holo calls with the government on Coruscant and had to leave, but promised to check in later. _

_ Veers had come on his lunch break to sit with her. She wouldn’t tell anyone when his hand found hers, and he clasped it until he left.  _

_ Luke was on a mission, but had immediately felt her distress, and she had her twin’s support in the Force, which helped a great deal.  _

_ And at last, Henley had come out to tell her that Han would be fine, he  _ **_would_ ** _ , but that he was keeping him unconscious for the next 24 hours. _

  
  


And now, she was still trying to calm herself. She had been sitting here for six hours. Henley had tried to shoo her out for some rest, but she just….she couldn’t. 

She leaned over to place her head in her hand. 

What might life be like if they all just lived quiet lives planetside? She’d had that option. They could be settled on Naboo or Coruscant….well, not Coruscant, but Naboo would be nice. Take occasional missions because Han couldn’t  _ not _ fly the Falcon, and let’s face it---she couldn’t sit still for long. 

But still….they could lead the sort of lives that trillions of others did. Quiet. Home based. Arguing over things like chair styles, and whether they should have the so-and-so’s round for dinner. 

She actually snorted to herself at that thought. Who was she kidding? That wasn’t who either of them were. They would both be longing to be in a place where they could get their hands dirty---to directly affect events to heal the galaxy from Palpatine’s damage. 

She sighed, and then two warm hands were on her shoulders, and she knew without looking who it was. She hadn’t sensed him coming---so wrapped up in her thoughts as she was. 

“My dear,” he said carefully, “the Doctor tells me it will be sometime until General Solo will even be able to wake up. Please can you come and get some rest?”

She reached up to place a hand over one of his. 

“I was trying to get some work done here….”

“How was that going for you?” he asked dryly, and she smiled slightly.

“Terrible,” she sighed, leaning back into him.

“Then, if I may, your Highness, please come and rest. I assure you that we will have you back here before he wakes up.”

He paused. “You can even bring your datapad, and not get work done elsewhere. He will absolutely be all right, my dear.”

“Yes,” she said, standing and stretching stiff muscles to face him. “It’s convincing my heart of that. My brain is there, but….”

“I know the feeling,” he told her and she knew that he did. He held out his arm as was his custom. 

“Shall we?”

She cast one look back at Han, peacefully sleeping now, and took the Admiral’s arm. 

The full extent of her weariness hit her like a physical blow as they made their way through the corridors of the ship.

“Admiral,” she said, suddenly feeling the full weight of everything, and desperately trying to keep it at bay. “I would rather not be alone. I know that you have….”

“My dear girl,” he interrupted gently, “I would never let you be alone in this, especially with your brother absent. My shift is done, and if you weren’t so very exhausted you would notice that we are almost at my quarters. I have been reliably informed that one does this when it’s family business.”

_ She was so grateful for this man. _

“Tea?” he asked.

<I have already heated the water.>

And the Lady was with her too.

“I see the Lady has anticipated things,” he remarked glancing at the ceiling, with a small smile. 

<I will watch over Han Solo, Dear one. My Admiral is admirably suited to watching over you.>

<Yes he is, Leia told her, watching him fondly as he made the tea. Thank you, Lady.>

She took her place on Piett’s sofa and slipped off her boots, as he came, and set down the mugs on his low table. 

She snagged her throw (his throw) and wrapped it around herself as he removed his duty jacket and laid it neatly over one of his armchairs. Then he settled himself near her, and she reached for a mug, holding it just to soak in the warmth for a while.

His datapad chimed and he swiped it as he took a sip of tea. “Commander Skywalker is about 8 hours out,” he told her, “and Captain Kelly wishes to express his wishes for a speedy recovery for General Solo.”

She smiled and drank her tea allowing the spices and warmth to relax muscles that had been tense for too long. 

Piett was very good at just sitting in companionable silence, as she had reason to know. She wasn’t sure when she felt the mug being gently tugged from her fingers, and she had a vague sense of his hand guiding her head to rest against him where the beat of his heart was steady in her ear……

  
  


*****

Veers finished his reports and shut off his computer, before rising and stretching. The excitement around the arrival of the Falcon and subsequent events had thrown off numerous day to day happenings in the bays, and for his men. He thought they just about had a handle on it though, and he had just dismissed Ellery after discussing how they could catch up with the rest of their work tomorrow.

His datapad chimed and he glanced at the message from Piett. 

Well. Would wonders never cease. A request that he bring up dinner for three. 

Veers chuckled to himself as he shrugged his duty jacket back on and replaced his cap.

Apparently, what it took to get Firmus to care about such mundane things as eating, was a brunette princess who had ‘Skywalker’ in her name. 

Subsequently, accompanied by a galley droid, Veers entered his friend’s quarters a short time later and paused to place his hands on his hips and survey the very domestic scene before him.

The princess slept peacefully against the Admiral who had his left arm around her, and was attempting to write reports on his data pad with one hand. 

“She’s going to have to wake up if we’re having dinner,” Veers said quietly, when Piett looked up at his entrance. 

“Thanks for bringing that, Max,” he said, setting aside the datapad, but making no move to rouse the girl settled against him.

Veers placed their dinner on the table and dismissed the droid. “Firmus…..” the General admonished, looking meaningfully at her. “She should eat. I’m willing to bet my walkers she hasn’t had anything since breakfast.”

“I know,” his friend sighed, angling a fond look down, “I just……”

Veers rolled his eyes. “He has no problem stepping in front of blaster fire, but ask him to wake up his princess…..”

Piett gave him a deeply unimpressed look, and tightened his arm around her, giving her a gentle shake.

“Your highness?”

And she blinked up at him. “Is Han…?”

“The General is fine, princess. You’ve only slept for three hours. Our dinner service has arrived.”

“Hilarious, Firmus.”

The princess sat up swiftly upon realizing he was there. 

“General! I’m so sorry I must look a sight. And Admiral, your bad shoulder….”

“I don’t have a bad shoulder,” Piett replied quickly, “just gets slightly stiff once in a while. It was no trouble, my dear.”   
  
The princess shared a fond and exasperated look with Veers. 

“General, thank you. It smells….goodness, I’m so hungry.”

Veers gave his friend a smug look, and it was Piett’s turn to roll his eyes. 

“Yes all right, thank you, Max.” 

For a few moments it was quiet as they enjoyed the hot pasta. Veers watched the princess---could see that she was doing her best not to fixate on her smuggler. He glanced at Piett, then rose and retrieved a bottle of wine, and three glasses. 

“Your highness?” 

“Thank you, General,” she replied, accepting the glass. I’m sorry, you’re both being so marvellous, and I just can’t seem to stop thinking….”

“There’s no apology needed here, princess,” Veers said, handing Piett a glass and retrieving one for himself.

“If you can’t stop thinking, my dear, perhaps you should tell us about him. How did you meet?”

_ Piett could have been a diplomat in another life. Not that he could ever see him as anything other than the navy man he was. _

She smiled down at the red wine in her glass. 

“Well. I am clean, warm, and holding a drink. I believe those were the criteria I gave you at one time for hearing this story.”

Veers and Piett looked at each other in puzzlement, and then Piett’s face dawned with comprehension.

“You met in a  _ sewer _ ?” the Admiral asked.

The princess managed a laugh. “Not quite, but it plays a major role. Oh dear.” She took another sip of wine, then snuggled further into the throw and the security of Piett’s side. 

“This isn’t exactly…...a happy story,” she began.

“If you would rather not my dear….”

“No actually, I think it’s time you knew. I want you to.” She sipped her wine and her eyes met Veers.

“May I ask, where….where you both were stationed shortly before Yavin?”

“I was Captain of the Avenger at that point. I didn’t even know Max here, yet.”

“I was supposed to be on the first Death Star. I was shot down over Yavin itself, and had a bit of a time playing at wilderness survival. I can tell you which I preferred, obviously.”

Piett gave him a look. There was a great deal more to  _ that _ story, but this was not the time for it. 

The princess gave a little nod. “I didn’t think either of you were there, but…..it’s good to have it confirmed.”

Veers frowned and Piett started to look vaguely ill. 

“I….was captured trying to get the Death Star plans to the Alliance. It…..it was Vader who took my ship and I was taken to the Death Star.”

_ Her Father. Her Father had captured the Rebel princess and taken her…..Stars. _

He and Piett shared another look. “Are you certain you want to…?” Piett said gently, setting his glass on the table, and getting his arm around his princess. 

“I am actually,” she said as if surprised at herself. “It…..I haven’t talked about this before. Well, Luke and Han of course, but they were there…..I’m getting ahead of myself.” She took a breath. “Dear Admiral, I want to.” 

She looked at Veers, and gave him a little smile. “I might need some more wine though, General.” 

He rose and poured her some. 

“I was…. _ questioned _ about the plans.”

Both Veers and Piett knew who questioned her without asking. The Admiral tightened his arm around her.

_ It really was a miracle she talked to Lord Vader at all. Though, as a father, how must he have felt when he discovered…..? _

“I had placed them in Artoo you see, and he and Threepio made it to Tatooine in an escape pod. Where Luke found them.”

“Your brother found…?” Piett’s eyebrows were high. “Well, that was some coincidence.”

“I think by now we all acknowledge the Force on this one, Admiral,” the princess told him. “I had also sent a message for help to General Kenobi.” 

Piett made a strange sound.

“To condense things: Luke and the General hired Han to get them to….to Alderaan. Of course, it was no longer there when they arrived. But the Death Star was, and they were tractored onto the station.” She took a sip.

“Has Han showed you his smuggler compartments in the Falcon?”

“No, but now I know to ask,” Veers replied, grinning at her. She gave him a small smile back. 

“They escaped detection by hiding there.”

“Stop.” Veers put down his wine. “Are you telling me that the troops stationed there, searched the ship and assumed, what, that an abandoned freighter flew itself to the system?”

“Apparently,” she replied. 

The Admiral and the General snorted at the same time. 

“I said it then, and I will keep saying it. These stations are not only atrocities, they encourage laxness in training.  _ Force _ , they…..”

“Not precisely the point, Max,” his friend interrupted mildly, though the princess had an amused smile on her face. 

“Apologies, your highness. Please continue.” 

_ Pathetic. Tarkin was an overweening fool and he had hated the project from the beginning.  _

Veers took a drink and met Piett’s eyes over the rim. The Admiral knew him well enough to know what he was thinking and gave him a little nod in agreement. 

“Well, General Kenobi went to disable the tractor beam. Artoo found out that I was aboard…”

“That little blue menace was there  _ too _ ?” Piett was interrupting this time.

The princess nodded and patted him. “He’s pretty great when you get to know him. He’s exceedingly good at getting out of situations…..well. Sorry. You know that.”

Piett sighed and closed his eyes.

“I’m not following. How does the Admiral know that?” Veers asked, puzzled.

“You’ll need more wine,” said the princess. He looked at Piett who was already reaching for the bottle himself.

“Firmus?” 

“Trust her, Veers,” Piett said, handing over the bottle.

He gave himself a refill, and looked inquiringly at the princess.

“Ah…” she hesitated and glanced up at Piett as if seeking his blessing.

“Might as well,” he sighed. “You’re telling us something close to the bone for you. It’s only fair.”

“General, Artoo was the one who repaired the Falcon’s hyperdrive.”

A beat.

“At Bespin.”

_ Holy kriffing hells. That damned droid. Of COURSE it was that droid……. _

She must have read his feelings as she raised a hand.

  
  
“I know. I’m sorry….”

“Firmus was convinced that he was going to  _ die _ for that! Do you….?” 

  
“Max….”

“I know, General, he’s told me. I’m so sorry.”

Veers took a breath. “No, no, your highness, I’m sorry. That wasn’t your fault. How were you to know all that was happening there? None of us did at that point. I apologize, I…. _ kriff _ .”

“General Veers.” She was looking at him steadily. “I’m very grateful that we got away. But I’m also grateful that things….. _ changed _ there. Because, well….here we are.” She smiled at him and up at Piett, who was looking strained as he always did at that particular memory. He rallied however, and gently touched his glass against hers.

“So,” she continued, “Luke apparently insisted that they rescue me immediately.” She smiled slightly. “He was so…..idealistic then. So they disguised themselves as stormtroopers…”

“ _ Force _ ,” Veers groaned. Piett smiled.

“....and came to find me on the detention block as they were going to execute me…”

“WHAT?” Piett was sitting up now, hazel eyes blazing.

_ Oh. This might make for an awkward conversation with his Lordship at some point. _

“Admiral…..” she placed a hand on his chest. “You can’t do anything  _ now… _ .”

“Who. Signed. That. Order?”

_ Kriff, Piett. What are you going to do?  _

She regarded her Admiral. “It wasn’t him. It was Tarkin. Admiral dear, it was awful, but it wasn’t him.”

His friend gazed at her for a long moment. Then the tension left his shoulders.

_ You would have tracked him down and tackled him with it, wouldn’t you, Firmus? _ Veers was so very grateful it had been Tarkin. 

_ Arrogant Moff bastard. _

Piett leaned back once more, though his eyes were still on fire. Apparently, even being dead wasn’t enough to save the Moff from his friend’s wrath. 

“I met him once,” Piett ground out. “Should have shot him then.” 

The princess resumed her favorite position against his shoulder. “But then you wouldn’t be here, Admiral. Thank you though.”

Veers moved and topped off Piett’s glass while the princess resumed her story. 

“Anyway. I was asleep in the cell. The next thing I know a stormtrooper is standing there looking at me and I could only think that he was terribly short.”

Veers barked a laugh. “Did you tell him that?” 

“Yes, actually.”

Piett chuckled. 

“He whipped off the helmet and said, ‘I’m Luke Skywalker and I’m here to rescue you!’” 

She took a sip of wine and shook her head. “From there of course, there was no plan….”

“Of course,” Piett murmured. 

“... and there were troops converging on us so….I took Luke’s blaster and shot out the garbage chute.” 

Piett made a face that Veers was certain he was mirroring. 

“Yes, it was exactly that bad,” the princess agreed, taking in their expressions. 

“All this to say, it wasn’t a situation that particularly---- _ endeared _ Han and I to each other. I was rather tense….

  
  
“Understandable,” put in Piett.

_ Firmus, you complete marshmallow. _

The princess smiled at Veers as though she heard his thought. He raised an eyebrow at her. 

“...so we may have exchanged a few  _ words _ .”   
  


Oh, Veers could imagine. He’d been present for some of the princess’s famous acerbic wit. Add that to the Corellian’s quick quips, and it made for some entertaining moments. 

“Despite that however, he was still helping me climb to the top of the garbage and whatever….. _ else _ was in there when it started to compress.”

Veers coughed slightly on his swallow.

“It….?”

She cocked an eyebrow at him. “Yes. And as the shortest, I would have had a really hard time without him. Of course, he did fire a blaster in there that could have killed us all. So there’s that.” She smiled into her glass. 

“Stars,” breathed Piett, “what  _ possessed _ him to….?”

“It’s Han. He needed to see for himself it would have no effect on the door.”

Piett groaned, and the princess actually gave a small laugh. His friend assessed her swiftly, and shot him a glance.

_ Yes, Admiral, I think this is helping. How I wish Zev could have known you as Uncle Firmus. He would have adored you. _

Veers shook off that cloud. “So how did you get out of the compactor, princess? Is this another miraculous droid escape or….?”

She leveled her large brown eyes at him and raised her eyebrows. 

He frowned skeptically. “ _ No _ .”

“Really?” Piett was incredulous.

“As you have noted, dear Admiral,” she told him, tilting her head on his shoulder to see him better, “Artoo feels quite free to snoop around any ship or station he has access to. Or ones he doesn’t----it does not seem to deter him either way.”

“Well,” Piett smiled down at her, “ _ that’s _ certainly true. But in this case I suppose I have to be thankful.”

“It’s late,” the princess noted, suppressing her yawn. “And I am aware you both had shifts and will have more….”

Piett snorted, and glanced at his chronometer. “It seems as though Commander Skywalker will be landing in three hours. I am certainly capable of that, but if  _ Max _ here is tired….”

Veers tilted his head at his friend consideringly. “I will overlook that rudeness, Firmus, as we have her highness present. However, to pass the time, I think it is my turn for stories.”

Piett narrowed his eyes. The princess smiled at Veers, and shifted against Piett for the most comfortable position.

_ Thank you, _ her eyes said.

“It was the early days of Captain Piett helming the Lady, and as you can imagine, our gallant Captain was determined to do absolutely everything perfectly. So I started keeping track of the many ways that he could fall asleep on top of a datapad….”

“Veers, honestly…”

“Shush,” the princess told him, tapping his arm, “I love tales about Captain Piett. Please continue, General.”

Veers looked at his friend who was striving to look irritated, but failing badly, as he held the princess securely with one arm, and made a resigned ‘go on’ motion with his other. 

So Veers continued. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So poor Han is wounded, but I apparently am capable of giving the rest of them a break. ;) For now....


	52. Reflections behind the mask

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was a little challenge I set myself a while back. A mish mash of angst, hope, grief and longing. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!!

For just over two decades he had been imprisoned behind it. Oh, he didn’t think of it that way for most of that time---allowing himself to sink fully into the monster the suit helped him create. Once he adjusted to the pain, and the strangeness of seeing things tinged in red or overlaid with a HUD display, it became the new normal. 

It allowed him, more than any other part of his suit, to distance himself from life, from humanity. The power of fear that he wielded as the faceless Sith Lord was tremendous. And for a while he  _ reveled _ in it. The wide eyes and racing heartbeats he viewed from behind it, fuelled the Dark side. 

His breathing remained steady and regulated----ominous even--- as he choked the ability to breathe in others. 

_ The Death Mask _ , he had heard whispered on Coruscant, in the Death Star and aboard the Lady. 

Yes, that title had pleased him. Accurate indeed. Certainly because he dealt out death. But also because he was a dead man under it all. His soul and heart had died that day with her. His body had nearly joined her. This suit…..without it, he was a dead man. 

So the suit hid a dead man, for Anakin Skywalker had unquestionably died that day.

And he was content to hide behind the mask and operate as the Emperor’s fist. He had a need to wreak the same pain he felt upon others, and the Emperor gave him unlimited scope for such a quest. 

But there came a day, and even he could not recall exactly when, where that was not enough. Where he suddenly craved more. And he began to create Death Squadron.

The Emperor thoroughly approved this elite fighting force, but also made sure to have his own influence within it. So the mask hid his frustration with incompetent captains and admirals, as well as engagements that Palpatine ordered, which Vader found wasteful. 

Nonetheless, he slowly and carefully began manipulating the various command posts in order to appoint men who were not only competent, but loyal to him, and to him alone.

And the mask was still so very useful--instilling fearful and reverent distance between himself and all others. He may enjoy moulding Death Squadron, but he did not need further contact with it other than military capacity. 

_ Don’t you? said Obi-Wan’s voice. _

He was proud of it, behind the mask. He knew his weakened muscles could still smile. He could still move his eyebrows or curl his lip in disgust. 

There came a point where he wondered if perhaps he was _too_ attached. Oh, he was not worried that his men might see that. He wore a mask after all. They may respect him now, but they still feared him enough to keep distance. 

No, he was perhaps too attached to the idea of having something of his own. Of being proud of something that was, ultimately, the Emperor’s.

_ But you made this, _ said a traitorous part of his brain,  _ you, not him.  _

And he decided that it was his. That he could allow himself that. It was an entity--a thing. He used it to serve the Emperor, much like he used his lightsaber, and that was his. He smiled grimly behind the mask. 

Time went on and the mask was still useful, yes, but…

...but it was feeling increasingly----restrictive. He spent more time in his hyperbaric chambers so he could take it off. This gave him some relief physically, but it allowed his mind far more time to wander down paths that were dangerous. Paths that led to…..attachment. 

_ Why had he saved those troopers today? How many times in the past would he have counted them as acceptable canon fodder? Was it merely because they were members of the 501st? Was it truly because they had a certain number attached to their unit that he felt this need to protect them?  _

_ And he had felt their gratitude and their awe…..Darth Vader had saved them, facing down a superior Rebel force on his own until reinforcements arrived. _

_ Why had he chosen to interfere with a mere Captain’s duty schedule? Yes, it bothered Ozzel to no end and that was a delight (one of few he had) but he should have just ignored it. Why did he feel this desire to see the Captain succeed? _

_ He’d nearly been shot down himself, shepherding the last damaged TIE in Black Squadron back to the ship. They had uncountable numbers of TIE fighters. The fact that this one was part of Black Squadron should not mean more. _

_ But it did. _

And then. 

The Lady. Beautiful, blue-lighted, resplendent. He had watched her growing in Kuat. He had personally met with the engineers. She was one of a kind---the greatest warship in the galaxy. And she would be his. 

But he did not know until he set foot upon her that first day of her completion, just how spectacular she was. 

_ Dark one, she called him.  _

She named him her friend, and together they led Death Squadron. 

He is not behind a mask for her. For a time that is enough. He found reasons to stay with his Squadron, and execute the Emperor’s orders through the galaxy, rather than report to Coruscant. 

For the first time he had begun to think about the nature of the Sith---of the rule of two. How the apprentice should overthrow the master. He resented being pulled from his Lady, his men. Perhaps it was time to move more pieces in place. 

He enjoyed the startled look, so clear on the man’s face, when Vader called him  _ ‘General’ _ Veers. He can chuckle quietly to himself, because no one will see or hear it behind the mask.

He studied the slight Captain before him, still recovering from his injuries, but hiding it with skill born of long practice. Vader knew how to do that as well, though now he has a mask to help hide such things, as well as a suit. And he felt the man’s fear, but also his determination. So he asked the Lady, and she confirmed his choice vehemently. 

And he found his son. 

His son, who was alive. 

His son, who abhorred the mask of Darth Vader. It was every rebel’s nightmare.

And the mask became a prison. A hindrance. 

And it made him more bitter and angry and resentful. He frowned more often than not behind the mask. He didn’t care that his fleet and his men started to only look at him with fear. He scowled at them and they couldn’t see it. 

He ordered them to pursue the Falcon into an asteroid field, and newly minted Admiral Piett had questioned his choice---fear radiating from him. But Vader wanted to rip the mask off in his hyperbaric chamber and dismissed his concerns.

The Emperor wanted his son, and his rage spiked. 

Captain Needa failed him. Piett was trying, but his focus was too much on the men under his command and not the mission---the mission to save his son. He frowned at the man, but he couldn’t see it because it was behind his damned mask.

_ Why couldn't they all see what he needed? That they must retrieve his son?  _

Then, at last--- _ at last _ \---he had them all at Bespin. 

He smiled behind the mask as his son moved to confront him. Luke didn’t understand yet, but he would. He would, surely?

He offered the galaxy, and wanted to show the love he had for his son, but the mask would not allow it. 

And Luke chose death, rather than the masked monster.

Behind the mask, Vader’s world unravelled. 

  
  
And he still wore the mask, but it was as though a blindfold had been removed from his very psyche. 

His son could not belong to the Emperor. He could not be other than what he was--- a child of light. And so.

So Vader must change.

And the mask was a prison. Because now, he needed his men to  _ see _ his intentions in his face, and they could not.

He could not show his regret to his Admiral, on the brink of collapse because of his obsessive, grinding quest. 

He could not demonstrate with a look, that he meant no harm when his General came prepared to defend his friend to the death.

He could not reassure all the men who scurried out of his way in fear, with a calm smile. 

But he could convey that to his son. The mask did not hide the Force. It could not hide his feelings from Luke. And because of that, he could try to work  _ around _ the mask.

But it still separated him and now…..now he did not desire that.

He watched as Veers came to stand near the Admiral on the other side of the bridge. He did it every day now-- a quiet check to make sure that Piett was still standing. 

He could feel the Admiral’s stress, but since their conversation, when he had revealed Luke’s identity, it was….different. Piett no longer feared for his life, at least not at Vader’s hand. 

Veers would take longer. Vader could still feel his suppressed anger and strong desire to protect.

But he envied them. There was no mask to block the glance that Piett gave to the General, and the answering quirk of an eyebrow from Veers. That friendship was deep, and they said much to each other with those little expressions, rather than words.

And he was locked behind his mask, recalling smiles and laughter and raised eyebrows---all the easy camaraderie with…..

At least his grief and loneliness were hidden behind the mask. 


	53. The Captain's Rounds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I decided after peaking into Vader's head under the mask, to do some snapshots from each of our favorite Imperials' heads and create a little trilogy.
> 
> They're not related in that sense, just each of them seeing a certain moment or moments and reflecting. 
> 
> Here's Piett's which takes place very shortly after 'Sith's Men' finishes. It would be helpful if you've read it, but it's not necessary. :)

The arc welders created cascades of sparks all around the vast bays. It was a bit like fireworks or fountains made of burnished gold.

He could smell the heat of the metal as he moved as unobtrusively as possible on the deck, which was mostly cleared of the debris of battle by now. Over there, where the most work was concentrated, was the extensive damage caused by Lord Vader’s ‘hangar bay’. 

He had accidentally referred to it as such on one of his rounds to the engineers, and it had stuck. He hoped that the unofficial title never reached his Lordship’s ears, but then, there were few things that Lord Vader  _ didn’t _ know about on the Lady. So far, no one had died for calling it that, so he had to hope that his commander didn’t mind or didn’t care that his Captain had been so  _ cavalier _ with his designation. 

He looked up at the work being done on the damaged catwalks where he and Veers had been not so long ago.  _ Stars _ , it was miraculous that neither of them had been pitched over the edge. It would have been a quick death at the bottom.

He shouldn’t reflect on that, however. It was why he was walking here after all, and not asleep as he ought to be at the moment. But the nightmares were still fresh, and he  _ needed _ to walk.

_ Veers, crushed by the Hand and dropped lifeless to the catwalk. _

_ Ellery and his men pulverized under tons of metal. _

_ The Lady herself---dark and silent---her core destroyed. _

_ Veers again, falling, falling off of the catwalk, and Piett wasn’t fast enough due to his damn leg, his fingers just brushing his friend’s…... _

No. It wouldn’t do to dwell on those, and it was better to be exhausted in the morning from exercise, rather than nightmares. 

He paced on, and acknowledged the salutes and greetings from the techs and engineers he passed.   
  


“Captain.”

“Evening, sir.”

“Good to see you, sir.”

He paused at ‘ _ Vader’s hangar bay’ _ as he saw the Chief Engineer directing the movement of a massive strut to replace one of several damaged ones. 

The man spotted his Captain, and shouted up to the workers and droids to halt.

“Evening, Captain Piett. Good to see you on your feet again sir!”

“Thank you, Chief. How are the repairs going over here?”

“Slower than I’d like, but she'll be better than new when we’re done. A bit late for you isn’t it, sir?”

The man looked at him knowingly. The Chief was one of the sharpest minds on the ship---no one questioned his position, even Ozzel, who seemed to question everything. A man about 15 years Piett’s senior, he was utterly brilliant and rumored to have been recruited by Vader himself off of Corellia of all places. 

Piett enjoyed talking with the Chief. He wasn’t dismissed as interfering ‘management’, and it was always pleasant to just have a conversation wherein he didn’t feel as though he was navigating several minefields, occupied by Sith Lords and pretentious Admirals. 

“A bit, “ he agreed mildly, “but I’m still trying to get back to full fitness and I like walking here. As long as I’m not interfering with your crew of course.”

The Chief grinned at him. “Not at all, sir. Makes them work better when they know the Captain’s watching. Isn’t that right you lazy sods?” he called up at the crewmen leaning over the rail above him.

A chorus of ‘aye sirs!’ and ‘so true, sirs!’ echoed down, and the men all grinned at Piett and saluted.

_ He loved this ship. He loved being the Captain of men like these---so generous in their regard to him.  _

“Well, carry on then. Far be it from me to stop your excellent work.”

He left the Chief behind as the massive hover droids started their movement once more. He was starting to feel this night time stroll in his healing knee and lower back more than he cared to admit. He hoped he didn’t need to slink to Henley in the morning for a painkiller, as that might involve awkward questions about why he wasn't sleeping. 

Of course, he could try a sleeping pill, but he didn’t care for how groggy they seemed to leave him.

He took a shortcut through one of the galleys. The evening shift was prepping meals for the night crew, and breakfast for the upcoming morning shift.

“Sir,” one of the senior petty officers acknowledged, and he nodded as he passed through, staying well out of the way of hot ranges and sharp knives. It was warm and smelled inviting in here. The staff were well accustomed to his ways by now, and gave him friendly nods, or brief ‘Captains’, but carried on with their jobs.

He reached the end of the long room and was intercepted by the Chief Steward.

“Captain, would you care for an early taste of breakfast sir? Or perhaps consider it an after midnight snack?”

He was holding a plate with a golden pastry that smelled temptingly of melted cheese and warm ham, as well as a mug of tea in his other hand. 

Piett raised an eyebrow at him. 

The man gave him a small smile. “The Chief commed and said you were heading this way, sir. Maybe take a break in your rounds? Take some weight off of that knee?”

Piett snorted, but slid onto one of the bar stools at the end of the steel prep table.

“Is there a conspiracy here, Spencer?”

“Absolutely sir,” the man said solemnly, sliding the plate to him, and the tea which Piett took gratefully. “The Chief and I have a dastardly plan to keep our Captain functioning properly, sir. He’s had quite a few nights on these rounds of his, so we plotted his downfall with tea.”

Piett chuckled and took a long, life giving sip of tea, holding the mug in both his hands allowing the heat to soak into his bones. 

_ The crew of the Executor were the finest in the fleet. Never, before he had boarded her, had he experienced this level of camaraderie. And this, even under Ozzel.  _

He took a bite and almost groaned with the flaky, cheesy delight his mouth experienced. He was the Captain however, and mustn’t be that informal.

He raised his eyebrows and nodded. “Not bad, Spencer.”

The Chief Steward grinned at him, reading more in his expression than he had said aloud. 

“Enjoy, sir.”

He turned and Piett stopped him. “Spencer? Thank you.”

The man nodded. “Anything for you, Captain.”

_ Piett could only conclude that somehow, Vader’s influence had brought this crew and this ship together. And that was an interesting thought, because seeing the Sith Lord as a unifying point was not natural. But he himself had witnessed….. _ **_more_ ** _ to the Dark Lord. Yes, there had been the army and navy divisions, but that had chiefly been Ozzel’s doing and those relations were improving now with Veers’ able assistance. _

The tea and hot pastry had the effect of making him suddenly quite drowsy as he made his way to the final corridors where his quarters were. The Lady blinked her lights at him as he removed his jacket and glanced at the chronometer.

“Lady? Can you wake me in three hours? And it needs to be  _ three _ . No snoozing.” He stared up at the ceiling. He was onto her little tricks that way now.

A beat. He could almost imagine her sigh. 

Then she flickered at him in acknowledgement as he moved to change back into his sleeping attire. 

“Thank you, Lady.” 

He was asleep in minutes. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You'll note Piett being his typical self in assuming that the crew are so great due to someone else's efforts. Hopefully YOU picked up that they might just think pretty highly of him. ;) 
> 
> Of course you did, you sharp readers, you.


	54. The General Contemplates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This takes place right after the events in 'Healing' and Veers has to grapple with a lot of things. 
> 
> Thanks for indulging my little looks into each man's head in various contexts. I really enjoy getting into each of their minds and motives with these different exercises and have found that it helps me write them with more depth in other stories. 
> 
> As always, I love hearing your thoughts too! :)

His family was one which had a long held, and proud military tradition. It also held a not so proud tradition of distant fathers and resentful sons. 

He had been very determined to break that with Zev, and fate had decided he would never get that opportunity. 

He had never hated his father, no. Just longed for him to be present. To be proud. So, of course, he had joined the army. And his father was proud, but never warm.

Still. His childhood had been secure. Happy for the most part. He’d had friends and a mother who loved him. A lovely home and great education.

He never had to worry about where his next meal might come from.

He didn’t fret about earning his own money to support anyone else. 

He was warm and loved and cared for. 

He’d never been hit. 

Not like so many trillions of beings across the galaxy.

Not like his friend. 

Veers stood and looked out at the fleet spread near them from one of several of the Executor’s lounges. He had been enlightened about a great many things on this trip, and had other things confirmed. Piett’s experiences and background explained his passion to root out slavers and spicers. But what of his commander’s? For Vader shared that desire. And it had Veers wondering. But if he was as reticent as Piett was about it…..

_ “You’re going to Henley. I’m not asking.”  _

_ He watched Piett finish latching his tunic and reach for his cap----the perfect picture of an Imperial Admiral, though the red mark crossing one side of his face was a bit jarring. It was much better after having the 24 hours of their travels to heal with bacta, but it was still visible. _

_ Unlike the welts Piett was hiding under his uniform, causing him to move carefully even now. _

_ “Veers, it will be fine and I will not…” _

_ “He’s seen them before, Firmus.” _

_ Piett stopped and looked at him. _

_ “You can’t treat them yourself. I would do it, but I’m not a doctor. Please. I’ll help you conceal this from everyone, but you will go.” _

_ Piett closed his eyes. _

_ “Fine.” _

_ “And she’ll know something happened.” _

_ His friend’s eyes snapped open to spear him with an intense look. _

_ Veers held up his hands as the tractor beam finished pulling them into the hangar bay, and he knew there would be a small greeting party. _

_ “I’m just pointing out that your princess is Force sensitive, and she’ll know something is wrong. How are you explaining your face?” _

_ “Got snapped with a low hanging branch.” _

_ Veers stared at him, trying not to give in to the anger that he had been wrestling with on Piett’s behalf all the way back from Axxila.  _

_ “I hate how quickly you came up with a plausible excuse.” _

_ “Max….” Piett sighed, lifting his duffel and hitting the controls for the shuttle’s ramp. Veers waited for the ‘it’s fine’ and was surprised. _

_ “I know.” Piett had smiled sadly, and gone to face the group waiting for them, Veers on his heels.  _

_ He didn’t flinch once when the princess gave him a warm embrace, and then pulled back suddenly to look at his countenance with a frown. _

_ She knew. Oh not specifics, certainly, but she knew.  _

_ “Admiral….” _

_ “It’s nothing,” Piett had answered quickly, smiling at her, “a silly accident.”  _

_ And her eyes had flown to Veers who gave a slight shake of his head.  _

_ She didn’t press. She touched her hand to the mark, and looked very directly into his friend’s face. “I’m so very glad you’re back,” was all she said.  _

_ Veers had watched the Admiral receive several other hugs, and a slap on the back from Solo without a single indicator of the fire that must have ignited.  _

_ The princess had been his ally in separating them from the group, and he was able to shepherd his friend to Henley.  _

_ Piett had been quite terse.  _

_ “Your office please, Doctor.” And surprisingly, Henley had obeyed without question. _

_ Veers had waited, reminding himself for the millionth time that he was glad not to have murdered that slaving piece of filth. Because he had standards. But…..kriff, those scars….at seven….  _

_ Henley had come out fifteen minutes later and came to stand near the General.  _

_ “Putting the uniform back on,” he’d said in answer to Veers’ inquiring look. He was uncharacteristically quiet for a moment. Then he moved to look directly into Veers’ eyes.  _

_ “I knew about the old ones. Please tell me you killed or crippled the bastard that gave him these.”  _

_ “Crippled,” Veers responded, realizing that he and the Doctor were having a rare bonding moment. “But only because he wouldn’t have wanted me to do more.”  _

_ Henley nodded once. “Then….. thank you, General.” And he held out his hand.  _

_ Veers shook it, and the two men understood one another, on this at least.  _

He clenched his hands and sighed in frustration. Veers didn’t do powerless well, and this made him feel powerless. He couldn’t go back in time to fix the utter tragedy that had been his friend’s childhood. He couldn’t declare all slavery in the galaxy to be ended. Technically, it  _ was _ under the New Republic, but such foul institutions always seemed to carry on in the darkest places. 

Still. 

They were making a start weren’t they? He knew that Piett and Lord Vader were working with dedication in setting up task forces specifically to root out these very things. It was time, he decided, that he was more actively involved in that.

Firmus ought to be sleeping at the moment (Henley had insisted on a sleeping pill) but he knew that his Lordship was due to be joining them within hours. He would speak with him when he came. 

“You are troubled, General.”

_ Or he had already arrived and Veers hadn’t been informed. _

“My Lord. My apologies that I did not greet you sooner.”

“No need for self recrimination,” Vader said calmly, “this visit is quite low key. I understand you and the Admiral are newly returned. I had thought to find him with you to express my condolences.”

Veers turned to look at the former Sith. He longed to share all that he had witnessed. The image of Darth Vader slicing through everyone who had ever hurt his friend was darkly satisfying.

But it was not his to share, and he would never breach Piett’s privacy like that. 

“I believe he is resting, my Lord,” he settled on. 

Those blue eyes studied him—-almost more disconcerting than the mask. 

“Hmm. How were your travels?” 

_ Cathartic. Horrific. Both _ .

“We accomplished what was needed, my Lord thank you.”

“An evasion if I ever heard one, General. I repeat, you are troubled.” 

_ Well. He had wondered about Vader’s own passion to end slavery.  _

“I…. have never been to Axxila my Lord. It was an…. enlightening experience on the Outer Rim.”

Veers paused and glanced at the tall man beside him. “I was thinking just now, that I have a better understanding of the Admiral’s…. _ drive _ to annihilate pirates and slavers.”

A beat. 

“I wondered about yours, my Lord.”

Vader was silent for so long, Veers wondered if he ought to apologize for asking too much, when----

“I hail from Tatooine originally, General.”

_ Well then. He and Piett shared Outer Rim origins. That explained some things indeed.  _

“You are familiar with the Hutts I believe?”

Veers nodded stiffly. Their practices filled him with revulsion. 

“My… early years were spent in the shadow of their operations there.”

His Lordship did not seem inclined to say more in the subject. 

_ Veers had a host of new questions but was not fool enough to voice them.  _

“I see, my Lord. Thank you.”

Vader turned to regard him. “Something happened I take it.”

Veers froze. “My Lord, I do not think I ought…”

Vader shook his head. 

“I agree. But your...  _ feelings _ are exceedingly loud.” He turned back to the stars. 

“Admiral Piett is both remarkable and resilient.” 

_ What did he know? Was he reading his mind? _

“I have not intruded in your recollections, Veers. You are a very loyal friend. But it is late. I intend to stay for a few days and shall see you again. We may talk more when you have rested.”

Veers knew when he was being dismissed. 

He was halfway across the room when his Lordship spoke again. 

“General.”

Veers paused to look back.

“Did you take care of things to your satisfaction?”

Veers smiled coldly. “I doubt I shall ever be satisfied, my Lord. But I took care of things as you say.”

Vader nodded. “Well done then, General.”

_ It was a start. It would be truly well done when they could stop every such abusive filth in the galaxy. He would join his friend and his commander in that quest. _


	55. Piett and the Princess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few of you mentioned that it would be fun to see Leia and Piett in action together. Quite so. And Piett gets to be rather....Imperial in this one. :)
> 
> Thank you for reading!

“Oh what about this? I think Han would  _ love _ this,” she said voice dripping with sarcasm.

Piett glanced over to see what she was holding and chuckled. “You know best, my dear. I would only state that even for Solo, that color is a bit….”

“Loud?” she suggested.

“I was going to say brain shattering, but certainly ‘loud’ is one way of putting it.” 

She laughed and placed the shirt back on the pile displayed on the stall. 

“We’re really not the sort of people that pick out clothing for each other, Admiral,” she told him, taking his arm and resuming their stroll through the crowded marketplace. “I was thinking he would like a knife, something like yours actually, so that’s what I’m keeping an eye out for.”

“Yes, that does seem much more appropriate,” he said smiling down at her.

  
  


This was the first time that Piett could recall taking a shore leave that he genuinely enjoyed. He had not been….. _ best pleased _ about it initially--- _ you’re kicking up an unholy fuss _ , was the crass way that Veers put it----but Henley had decreed that he had to take a minimum of four days, for him to declare the Admiral fit for duty, so he had begrudgingly agreed. 

_ Glared your way through five decks, _ was Veers’, again unhelpful, assessment.

As it happened, however, the princess was meeting her Father at Corsin to discuss some issues on Mon Mothma’s behalf, and she suggested that he join her.

“Then we can have some lovely time as well, dear Admiral,” she’d said “as Luke and Han are away on mission with the Falcon, and I won’t be taking a pilot from the fleet this way. Not everyone can say they have the Fleet Admiral piloting their shuttle.”

And Piett had very pointedly ignored the look Veers was giving him as the princess patted his arm and walked away to pack her things.

He did _not_ miss the glance that the princess shot at the General as she passed him, and he waited until she was out of earshot before he tackled Veers.

“If I discover,  _ General _ ,” he said in clipped tones to his friend, “that this is another one of your little conspiracies….”

Veers had raised his eyebrows coolly. “I don’t have power over either the Doctor or the princess’s schedule. And I wasn't aware that you needed the excuse of a conspiracy to acquiesce to her highness’s wishes. Are you telling me that you’re going to say  _ ‘no’ _ to her? Have you somehow grown a spine in regard to your princess?”

Piett snorted, but decided not to grace that with a response, levelling Veers with a look that would have most of the junior lieutenants panicking. 

“That’s what I thought,” Veers told him, grinning widely. 

The man was impossible, and the only option had been a dignified retreat to go and pack. 

  
  


But here he was now, on the second day of leave, and while it was exceedingly strange not to be in uniform (though it was packed neatly on the shuttle because….. _ reasons,  _ Veers) he was happy. 

Corsin was a beautiful planet. He recalled being stationed in orbit over it at one time, under the Empire, but he had never been to the surface. They were meeting with his Lordship tomorrow, and then they would be en route back to the Lady. It was an acceptable amount of time, and they were staying in a coastal town, along one of the planet’s many stunning beaches. 

Coming from such a sparse planet himself (though happily not the desert wasteland of somewhere like Tatooine) Piett was fond of the ocean and the coastal areas, and this was the loveliest he had viewed so far. 

“I think,” said his princess, her tone echoing his content mood, “that we should start pondering lunch. There are numerous little places that have a marvellous view of the water over there. And I think I saw one that serves those creamy pastries that you like.”

_ And it still filled him with such pleasure to have someone in his life who noticed things like that and cared about it.  _

He smiled and pressed the hand on his arm. “Well then, my dear, lead on.”

As they passed one of the many little narrow alleys, the princess paused, frowning, and he slapped at the bite of an insect on his neck.

Well, he supposed that was bound to happen, though he didn’t recall any the day before and……

…..the princess was fuzzy.

And there were shapes converging.

“Admiral!!”

And his blaster was on the shuttle…..

…..but they were  _ taking his princess. _

He made a huge effort through the drug---it was definitely a drug---and seized one of them around the middle in a weak attempt to take him down. 

She was fighting, but clearly must have been drugged as well, she was slowing down and he was shoved off to impact with a wall…..

  
  


****

Piett’s mouth was dry. He hated that feeling--distinct to being drugged. His brain was moving through sludge, and he knew that there was something urgent…..something he needed to get up and do. Get up? Was he lying down?

He opened his eyes with supreme effort--they were made of stone apparently-- and found himself staring into the panting and truly foul smelling mouth of a local stray. This had the effect of clearing his mind, and he made it to hands and knees, startling the beast, which yelped and ran off down the alley. 

_ The alley. Drugged. The PRINCESS. _

Piett lurched to his feet, placing a hand on the warm stone wall beside him as his head spun. How long had he lain there? He moved out toward the main street. It didn’t seem as though the sun had moved all that far in the sky. His deep urgency to find the princess cleared the last of the fog from his head. He moved to one of the vendors that was across the way and might have had a view of the incident. 

“Excuse me,” he said to the portly blue male who sat behind brightly colored jewelry. “Did you see anyone come out of that alley over there, recently?”

The blue being stared at him. “I try not to notice things like that. Safer that way.”

Piett growled. “Well I’m not threatening you  _ yet _ . They had my….they had a girl with them---she might have looked ill?”

“Like I said. I. Don’t. Notice.”

“Oh kriff, Lork, you giant coward. I saw something, mister.”

Piett turned to the woman at the stall next to the jewellers. She was older and slightly scruffy, but had a kind face and a sharp expression. 

“Like you said, she looked ill. Petite? Brunette?”

“YES,” Piett said urgently. “Please, she was taken…”

The woman looked angry. “Yeah, there are bounty hunters that move through here. Usually can get good pickings for the Imps.”

None of that was what Piett had expected to hear. He had feared slavers, but this was chilling him on a new level. 

“Imps…?”

“Yeah, this planet was under their control for a long time. Their big garrison was taken out, but those in the know are aware of their smaller base about four miles from here. Since this is a popular trade and tourist destination, they can operate really low key. Don’t think they were one of the main branches if you know what I mean.”

Piett did know. Special Operations then. 

“You think they would take her there?”

“Look, I ain’t no expert. But them’s bounty hunters that had her--- I know the difference between that and slavers. Woulda interfered with slavers, but you don’t mess with the bounty hunters.”

“Thank you.”

Piett tried not to run. He couldn’t be conspicuous. But a clock was ticking in his head.

_ Imperial special operations had his princess. Kriffing hell. And they had taken his comlink _ .

He was sweating by the time he made it to the rented bay where they had left their shuttle. He sprinted up the ramp, slapped the controls to shut it again and powered up the com.

_ Where was he? He wasn’t answering…. _

“Piett? This is a bit early…”

“My Lord,” he said without pausing, “your daughter has been abducted. You need to come now. Apparently the Empire had a special forces garrison here. I apologize for not doing more thorough research, I…..”

“Admiral.”

Piett took a breath at the command in that tone.

“Do not waste time in blaming yourself. It is not yours. You did not decide the location. I am two hours from your position. Find out everything you can about this garrison. It is unlikely they would move her off planet…..”

They could move her off planet.  _ Force _ . He hadn’t considered that. And then they definitely wouldn’t get to her in time.

“Piett…..”his Lordship began warningly, and Piett knew what he had to do before he was ordered not to. 

“I will indeed find out what I can, my Lord.” And he cut the connection. The weight of that hit him hard. Never in his career had he cut off a call with  _ Lord Vader. _ At one time he would have died for that. 

But these were special circumstances, and he desperately wished he had Veers with him, but that wouldn’t stop him. 

He powered off the shuttle once more so that no further communication could occur and retrieved his uniform and blaster. 

An Imperial garrison was it? They would get an Imperial Admiral. 

  
  


Once he was attired as he ought to be, gloves and all, he powered up the shuttle and began a scan for this base. It wasn’t on any of the regular maps that were given for the city and surrounding areas, but there was a distinctive (at least to his eye) blank spot that corresponded with the four mile estimate that he had been given earlier. 

He lifted off smoothly and made his approach. He was going to have to bluff with more confidence than he’d ever used in dejarik, and he’d have to hope his rank would buy him some time.

It took him no time to spot the unobtrusive building, and he was unsurprised when he was hailed.

“Unidentified shuttle, state your business and clearance codes.”

_ So this was how it felt to be on this end of things. _

He gave Ozzel’s old code. “My business is more classified than I would give to a comms officer, thank you,” he declared in his loftiest, most ‘Imperial’ tones as the princess would have said. 

“This is Commander Dreavik,” said a new voice, “You must….”

  
  
“Are you daring to give an Admiral an order, Commander? My business is most urgent---it concerns Lord Vader.”

_ Which was technically true. _

But apparently those were magic words for Imperial Special Operations.

“You are cleared to land on pad Aurek, Admiral.”

“ _ Thank _ you.”

He brought the lamda down carefully. And paused to gather himself. He had never been the kind  of commander to even desire to convey the sort of arrogance so many around him gave off. Recalling how he felt toward slavers and spicers, he drew upon those feelings and set his countenance as the landing ramp came down.

He strolled down confidently, his eyes cold at the welcoming party to greet him. 

“Admiral…..?”

“Ozzel,” he replied, well aware of the irony. “Not that one. His brother.”

“I’m Commander Dreavik,” said the tall steel haired man stepping forward and offering his hand. Piett stared at it imperiously, and then back up to him, hands firmly behind his back. 

_ Good. He was flustered. _

“I believe I mentioned that my business was urgent, Commander? Is there a reason we’re waiting outside?”

“Ah…. no, Admiral. This way please.”

They moved into the building and once inside, the Commander turned to him, slightly apologetic.

“I’m sorry sir, but as you know, you'll need to leave your blaster here with security.”

_ Damn it.  _

“Of course I know that, Dreavik, one wonders why you are bothering to state the obvious?” he said aloud, allowing his lip to curl in contempt slightly, as he handed his blaster to the trooper without even looking at the man. 

_ Arrogance will get you far with people like this.  _

“Of...of course sir.”

“Well then? Your office, man!” 

“Right away, Admiral.” And the man leapt to obey, frowning horribly at his subordinates as though they were to blame for the delay.

Once inside, Piet wasted no time.

“As I stated, my business concerns Lord Vader. Are you the highest ranking officer here, Commander?”

The man flushed. “At….at the moment, sir. Sometimes the General comes…”

“General who?”

“Ah, General Zylest, sir.”

_ He didn’t recognize the name, but logged it away.  _

“Very well, if you are the best that can be offered.” He was aware that even now, they would be running his face and codes to double check his identity. 

“Lord Vader is coming here.”

“ _ What _ ?!?”

“Yes, you understand my urgency now. And I have been given to understand that a rather…. _ special _ prisoner was brought here mere hours ago. One that will have unique meaning to him.”

“How….how could you possibly know that, sir?”

Piett gave him his coldest, most scornful look. 

“I am here in this base and you wonder that I know classified information?  _ Force _ , how did you come to command here?”

_ She was here, she was here.  _

The man was bright red now. 

“I wish to question her myself. Bring her.”

The commander gaped. 

“Bring her….. _ here _ ? To my office?”

“You thought I desired to go to detention?”

“I ah….” The hapless commander whirled on the lieutenant with him. “Bring the Rebel prisoner here.  _ Now _ .”

Piett’s heart was beating wildly. 

While they waited he forced himself to wander about the office, occasionally raising an eyebrow at something and generally making the Commander sweat. 

At last,  _ at last, _ there was commotion outside and he could hear her viciously hurling words at them. He smiled slightly.

“......I don’t care how many Admirals are here, I  _ demand _ that you contact the New Republic Head of State, and…..”

She was shoved into the room, and forced to her knees, her fury filling the small office. They must have her in Force repressing cuffs then. 

“Show respect Rebel scum,” the Commander snarled at her, and she spat on the floor in front of Piett’s boots.

“There’s my respect you…..” and her eyes met his. 

It wasn’t even a full beat. She was too good for that. “.....you Imperial  _ swine _ .”

“You’ll want to check that attitude,” he told her coldly.

Her face had a large bruise across one side, but she seemed unharmed otherwise. _Her_ _face…_.

Piett was a raging inferno inside. He held her stare for a long moment, then reached out and tilted her chin in his gloved hand. 

“I see she has been difficult. Who gave her this?” he asked calmly. 

“She was mouthy, sir,” said the lieutenant proudly. 

“Mm.” Piett didn’t trust himself to respond with words. “And her weapon?” he held out his hand demandingly without breaking eye contact with her.

Her brown eyes bore into his with intense trust. 

“Ah, yes I confiscated that, one moment…” and the Commander was scrambling to open a weapons’ locker.

Piett allowed an impatient little huff to escape. 

“Sorry, Admiral, we….we weren’t expecting you…”

“ _Clearly_ ,” Piett clipped, allowing a slight curl of his lip. And then the weight of her weapon was placed in his outstretched glove, and he grasped it firmly just as the lieutenant’s data pad chimed. He raised his eyebrows, looked up…..

…..and Piett knew.

The man was reaching for his weapon, but Piett smoothly reached over to grip the blaster in the commander’s holster and draw it, thumbing off the safety as he did so.

“You’re…!” was as far as the lieutenant got before he went down first, and Piett took care of the trooper and the commander swiftly, before holstering the blaster at his side, and searching the bodies for the com codes to unlock her binders. 

“One moment my dear,” he told her as he found them on the lieutenant, and then she was free and he was pulling her up from the floor and into his arms. 

“I’ll never tease you about bringing your uniform anywhere ever,” she laughed into his chest. “ _ Force _ , I didn’t know you could be that  _ awful _ .” 

She pulled back, and he handed her the lightsaber. 

“Thank you,” he told her, smiling. “I’m afraid they’re onto us, however,” he continued. “Your Father should be on his way, but we’ll need to make it out of here.”

They both moved swiftly to the door and positioned themselves on either side of it. 

“Ready?” he asked, and she nodded. “Thirty yards to your left, then another twenty to the front entrance,” he told her. 

The door opened and they ducked out. 

For about fifteen seconds, they made unimpeded progress, and then stormtroopers were thundering toward them, and Piett began to fire as her lightsaber erupted into glowing brilliance to block shots coming their way. 

She took the lead and they made the turn.

_ Kriff. Had the whole garrison turned out to block the entrance? _   
  


Her blade was like a white shield, she was deflecting so fast. He skidded to the floor on his knees to fire under her lightsaber and managed a respectable number of hits as he saw the trooper coming out of the weapons’ check office. 

He fired immediately, to take him down, and ran to retrieve his blaster, coming up with one in each hand.

“Princess!” he called, “Any extra ah,  _ force _ you can provide…!”

And she thrust her hand out, flinging the blast doors apart, like wood. There was a brief pause of shock from the men between them and freedom, and Piett took full advantage of it, firing as fast as he could and clearing a small opening. 

And then——his princess.

He watched in awe as she leapt, flipping over the heads of the astonished troopers and suddenly landing behind them to create a two front threat for the garrison forces. 

She was so graceful as she dealt destruction, and he sprinted toward her. 

They were in the sunlight and alarms were blaring, and he’d forgotten that of course, they would have men stationed on the perimeters….

He turned to fire as many times as he dared as they ran for the shuttle. He could hear her blade spitting and hissing as she deflected as many shots as she could, but now they were coming from numerous directions….

….and one found his shoulder. He stumbled, but kept moving. She glanced back at him and slowed.

“No!” he told her, “Keep going!”

But she was at his side in a moment, blocking shots which certainly could have killed him as they moved the final yards.

And the dark shadow of a large ship came over them.

_ Son of a Hutt, he hadn’t considered that they would have gunships here, but…. _

_....that was a freighter of some kind, not Imperial….. _

It swept so low that one of the troopers on the roof could have touched its hull as it released….

….a proton bomb. What pilot would be insane enough to release a bomb with his ship that close to the target….?

_ As though he had to ask. _

“Get down!” he yelled to the princess and both of them dove for the weak cover underneath the lamda as the garrison was half blown out by a huge explosion.

The freighter came around, guns blazing and the remaining troopers were fleeing…..

“Into the shuttle!” the princess called out, and he was pushing to his feet, aware of the hot blood soaking his sleeve. Adrenaline was keeping the pain at bay for the moment as she slapped the controls and both of them were clambering into the ship before the ramp had finished lowering.

She hit the controls on the interior to raise it again as he flung himself into the pilot’s seat and toggled the switches, warming up the engines. The freighter was giving them ample cover fire as Piett sent the shuttle springing toward the atmosphere, and the princess prepared to use the weapons, should they be surprised by an Imperial ship.

And their comms crackled to life with a familiar voice. 

“Dock  _ now _ , Admiral. I have just enough space for your shuttle.” 

The freighter was indeed  _ just _ big enough and he maneuvered carefully into the small bay, before touching down and reaching wearily for the controls to power off the shuttle. 

As the ramp came down, familiar tones rang out.

_ Yes, his commander would be most…..seriously displeased. _

“You  _ cut me off, _ Piett. You  _ knew _ I was going to tell you to wait for me….”

And they came into view of an irate Anakin Skywalker, hands on his hips, and scowling furiously at his Admiral.

“Father,” the princess said calmly, coming to his side, “can you yell at him in whatever passes for a sickbay on this bucket?”

And his commander’s expression changed, as he came over to them quickly to get a durasteel arm around Piett.

“Piett....you need to stop losing blood on behalf of Skywalkers,” his Lordship sighed, but he sounded almost…..fond?

“And, daughter, I will have you know that this  _ bucket _ as you so disrespectfully call it, can outrun that decrepit disk your smuggler calls a ship any time.”

The princess, having refused to relinquish her hold on his other side, snorted.

Piett wanted to wave them both off, but his adrenaline was choosing that moment to leave him, which was vastly unfair, and the next clear memory he had, found him in a large chair of some sort, missing his jacket, with two Skywalkers working on his shoulder. 

“There you are,” said his princess as he found her eyes, handing her Father the last of the bandages, and placing a gentle hand on his cheek. “I’m going to go find you some water. I assume this  _ vessel _ has a galley?” she shot over her shoulder to his Lordship.

“Of course,” his commander intoned, finishing his work and wiping his hands on the cleaning cloths at his side, before perching on a bulkhead bench to spear Piett with that blue gaze.

“To reiterate, _Admiral_. Did you or did you not _deliberately_ _cut me off_ , knowing that you were going to fling yourself recklessly into a situation that could have ended with both of you killed?”

_ Kriff, the man was a raging hypocrite. _

But. 

Also his commanding officer, so….

“Yes, my Lord, though I wouldn’t characterize it quite like that.”

“Oh yes? Taking on Randall Ozzel’s identity? Informing them  _ I _ was coming?”

“Well you  _ were _ ,” Piett grumbled tiredly as a thought struck him. “How did you know that?”

“I hacked into the garrison systems when I entered atmosphere to keep abreast of whatever insane situation you had got yourselves into. Thankfully for everyone involved.”

Piett held his gaze defiantly.

“Utterly reckless,” the former Dark lord repeated, wagging a finger. 

_ Piett had long practice in biting his tongue. _

“I will say though, Admiral,” continued his Lordship, rising and finding an old blanket somewhere which he handed to Piett.

_ Of course he could tell that Piett felt cold. But apparently he also cared about it. _ Piett smiled.

“It was rather….. _ amusing _ to hear a side of you I’m grateful you don’t actually desire to have.”

Piett finished drawing the blanket around himself, and met his commander’s eyes. 

“I’m glad I could give you entertainment with the situation, my Lord,” he stated dryly. 

The former Sith chuckled as his daughter returned carrying a glass of water. 

“They would have seen through your disguise soon anyway, Piett.” he said grinning.

“Oh really?”

“You have  _ far _ more command presence than Ozzel ever did.”

_ That was a compliment, correct? _

“Since we discovered this Imperial hold out, General Veers wishes you to know that the Lady is on her way, in case there might be more to deal with,” the princess told them, handing Piett the water and standing at his side. 

“He’s very glad you will be alright, and has requested that we not allow you to move from here until they arrive, lest you charge off to confront the Imperial fleet on your own.”

Piett coughed on a swallow. 

“That man…..”

“Is quite correct,” interrupted his Lordship. “They will be here in a few hours. Rest, Admiral---you’ll need your strength to explain yourself to Dr. Henley.”

Piett groaned and laid his head back as the princess perched on the broad arm of the chair next to him. 

“Thank you for coming to find me,” she said simply, taking his hand.

He gripped her fingers firmly. 

“Always.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A tremendous thank you to Rowan_Moon for naming Ozzel's brother Randall. I quite enjoyed using that. :)


	56. Rumor has it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I played with the idea of others discussing our main characters some more. But this idea popped into my head---what if the officers being discussed could hear what was said? :) 
> 
> I had so much fun writing it, I felt like I was sitting with Veers, and Piett and Anakin listening in. I hope you enjoy reading!
> 
> As always, I love to hear your thoughts.

Anakin relaxed into one of the comfortable chairs in his preferred officer’s lounge on the Lady. This spot was more discreet, a bulkhead separating it slightly from the rest of the room. He stretched out his long legs and took a welcome sip of his drink.

It had been over a month since he had visited the fleet, and it was a pleasure to be back on board the Lady. Piett was feeling more confident to press him to stay (along with Luke), but he did not feel that he could do so yet, if he ever did. But, he did feel he could make this visit a longer one, and it afforded him the very great pleasure of having a drink with his two most loyal officers. 

He was still reluctant to say that he had friends. They  _ were _ , he knew that----too much had happened to all of them together to deny that---but it was difficult for him to say it, even in his own mind. 

He sensed them approaching, arguing lightly about something as good friends did. 

“....pointing out that you’ve never fired from a moving transport before and it wouldn’t hurt to get in some practice with my Herd….”

“I fire from a moving transport all the time, Max, she just happens to be tremendously  _ bigger _ than your walkers.”

“There are some I suppose, Firmus, that find your idea of humor amusing….”

The two of them came around the bulkhead, each carrying a glass.

“Gentlemen,” Anakin greeted and received a small smile from Piett, and a salute with his glass from Veers. He waved at the chairs opposite and both of them sat with a relaxed posture.

“What further training are you encouraging the Admiral to pursue, General?” Anakin asked, enjoying the small eye roll Piett made.

“I have been trying to point out, my Lord, that it would behove him to learn how to shoot things while having to balance on a moving object. Those of us on ground campaigns have had to learn, while the  _ navy… _ .”

“What the General is trying to say sir,” Piett cut in smoothly with a superior look angled at Veers, “is that he needs a way to try and top my range scores, and is finding increasingly ludicrous means of attempting to do so.”

_ Ah yes, the unofficial competition. Which seemed to be turning more and more official each time Anakin heard about it.  _

“Hmm. If I’m not mistaken Admiral, it sounds to me as though you might be avoiding a challenge.” Anakin raised an eyebrow at Piett who was lowering the glass he’d been about to drink from, and staring at him in stunned betrayal. 

“It is always reassuring,” remarked Veers coolly, “to be reminded of how astute our commanding officer is, don’t you agree, Admiral?”

Anakin smiled benignly and took a drink.

“Oh, always,” responded Piett, in tones that implied otherwise. 

He sighed and took a quick drink. “Very well---I just want it to be on record that I am fully aware you are both manipulating me into this----and if I discover that either of you were apprised of any bets Solo and Venka may or may not be placing…..”

He paused as a rather jubilant group of younger officers seated themselves loudly on the other side of the bulkhead. They may be off duty, but Piett’s rigid sense of decorum on his ship was clearly alerted. He set his glass down, ready to deliver a ticking off, when Anakin held up a hand.

“....and Berkley here, was serving on the Lady’s bridge when he was Darth Vader, and his tales are fascinating.”

It seemed to be a group of Imperial officers welcoming a new former Rebel to the crew. Piett had his most forbidding Admiral face on, but Anakin did not sense any animosity and waved him down.

He was puzzled but obeyed, shooting a quick look at the General. 

“Did…..did you actually see him personally, sir?” asked the young officer.

“I had just made commander,” came an older voice---Berkely. “It was about two months after Bespin, you recall right Wrexton?”

Piett pressed his lips together, but Anakin was curious now.

“All of us remember  _ that _ ,” said Wrexton. “Such a strange time.”

“Anyway,” continued Berkely, “it was  _ my _ job to deliver the daily bridge duty rosters to Lord Vader for his approval--- _ not _ something he’d seemed to care about before, mind you. But I started noticing he was making specific changes…”

Anakin shifted uncomfortably, suddenly realizing where this was going. 

“He was cutting back the hours that the Admiral had scheduled himself to be on the bridge. And that was when I shared my theory with Wrexton here.”

Piett was looking at him with raised eyebrows now and a slight smile on his face.

_ Oh kriff it. _

Wrexton took up the tale. “After Bespin things  _ changed _ . And Berkley thinks that, given what we know  _ now, _ Lord Vader was looking for ways to make it up to the Admiral.”

Anakin didn’t think he was still capable of flushing, but it was possible he was. Veers was staring at him, and Piett was looking far too pleased. 

“Is that so?” he whispered.

Anakin sighed, and gave a small nod. 

“Yes, as I said then, he’d cut back the hours, and make sure that he scheduled himself instead. Further, I am certain that he….”

“Oh not the tea thing again,” interrupted Wrexton. “This is taking it too far, Berkley.”

“Hear me out. If you’ve served on the Lady’s bridge for any length of time, you know the Admiral likes that one kind of tea….”

Piett’s face was turning red now and Veers was smirking at him broadly. 

“Well, I swear that I was at the defense station, and I overheard Lord Vader ask one of the ensigns to get the Admiral a mug from the galley.”

A chorus of derision greeted this assertion. 

“I’m with Wrexton,” said another voice. “I agree that Lord Vader was different. I mean, the chokings went down to nothing, and the Senior officers stopped looking quite so hunted, but tea for the Admiral? Please.”

Anakin took a long sip of his drink to avoid looking at the little smile that was gracing Veers’ face now. Piett saluted him with the glass and a nod.

“All right enough of your tall tales, Berkley, now let me tell you what  _ I _ got to see, swear on the Force,” said the new voice. 

A general consensus of eagerness swept the group of officers behind them. Piett and Veers both leaned forward slightly. 

“All right, I think we can all agree that it takes----well, it takes the Lady facing off with the Death Star to get Admiral Piett to come close to losing his cool.” 

A chorus of agreement.

“Or my score being higher on the range….” Veers murmured softly. Piett rolled his eyes.

“All right, well, it was still when Ozzel was Admiral, damn him….” a unified tapping of glasses sounded on the table, and a pause.

Anakin realized they were all taking a drink to that, and raised his eyebrows at the other two.

Ozzel’s name as a drinking game. Anakin still had a hard time feeling regret for that one, given the kind of hell the man had put both Piett and numerous other officers through. From the expression on his face, Veers didn’t feel any regret either. 

“...and so we were still dealing with a lot of army/navy conflicts on the Lady.”

“I don’t recall having a lot of issues with that in the Alliance,” commented the ex-Rebel, sounding a bit puzzled. 

“Well it wasn’t universal to the Imperial forces per say,” said the voice, “but Ozzel was a Core worlder, and encouraged it since he felt the navy was automatically superior.”

Piett huffed out a soft little sigh, but Veers held out his glass, and the Admiral lightly touched it with his own.

“And he  _ hated _ Captain Piett. Largely because he and the General were working so hard to try and unify the crew. Well, that and Lord Vader had made him Captain of the Lady. ”

“How can you possibly hate the Admiral?” wondered Wrexton. 

Another pause was taken to drink Piett’s health. 

The man in question had a face that was flaming, as Anakin and Veers silently joined the younger officers in the toast. 

“Anyway,” the officer continued, “these two navy lieutenants were having a go at General Veers on a broad number of areas while they were inspecting the food supplies. They didn’t know that the Captain and myself were there as well, another row over. And the Captain, he just stopped, and when they said that the General was content to let his men die but not himself, he snapped the data pad.”

Veers looked impressed as he glanced at his friend. Piett was biting his lip and clearly remembering this incident.

“ _ Bastards _ ,” he hissed. 

“So, he hands the pieces to me and goes marching around the corner to confront them....”

“Did you now, Admiral?” Anakin breathed softly. 

“And you gentlemen know our Admiral isn’t the tallest....”

A few chuckles.

Piett sighed longsufferingly. 

“....but he got those two backing up against the shelving.  _ Stars _ , I’ll never forget...have you heard him when he’s in full dressing down mode? Like he’s cutting you to pieces with his words?”

A few murmurs of assent around the table.

And in a reasonably credible imitation of the Admiral, the officer said, “‘I’ll beg you two to remember that while you were still crying to your mothers about your latest bed wetting, General Veers was defending this Empire with his body and soul, and if I hear you insult him again, you’ll be helping the fresher droids clean the tanks with your toothbrushes. Now get out---I don’t want filth like you near my food supplies.”

A loud chorus of cheers and clapping. 

Piett had his face buried in his hands, the tip of his very red ear, just visible. Anakin was wiping silent tears of laughter from his eyes, as Veers patted his friend’s back quietly.

_ Oh, he could hear and see Piett. This was proving a deliciously entertaining evening. _

“I have to admit, General Veers is a bit….intimidating,” the new officer said.

“True,” murmured Anakin while Piett recovered his composure and Veers had another drink.

“But that’s exactly what you want in our General,” said another voice. “I mean, look at Madine.”

Raucous laughter. Piett shook his head and smiled ruefully at Anakin. 

“Yes, how on earth did you get saddled with him, Davis?” 

Anakin assumed this was the former Rebel officer.

“Hey, do I look like I was part of the High Command? He has lots of connections with high ups and Senators from a lot of the worlds that were supporting us in the war. I’m guessing that may have had something to do with it. He’s good friends with Fey’lya, I know that.”

“Figures,” Veers said softly into his glass.

“Look,” continued someone, Wrexton, possibly. “The General keeps things pretty close to the chest. I mean, ‘Iron Max’ right? But I have a case to make for his having a heart.”

The rest laughed and teased, but settled down to hear the case….

….as did Anakin and Piett who were both giving him knowing looks. Veers shifted uneasily, and Anakin smiled again.

“All right, so we all know that he got injured during the Hoth campaign---”

Piett straightened, face sobering.

“And you recall that sabotage business before that, when the walker exploded in the bay?”

A lot of sober agreement and a moment of quiet. The three senior officers shared it. 

“Well, the General spent a good bit of time in sickbay, and I knew one of Henley’s medics at the time, Marisol. He goes through them like water.”

Lots of chuckles and Anakin nodded in agreement. He also noted that Veers clearly knew where this story was going, judging from the discomfort in his expression. Piett was paying close attention and starting to look hopeful.

“All right, well before she put in to be transferred to a sickbay on Deck 18, she told me about this. It was shortly after Hoth and Bespin and all of that, the others mentioned. She helped Henley with the General, and the Doctor had her getting bridge reports all the time---she wouldn’t tell me why, but it was running her ragged. During our brief stint in the asteroid field, a lot of damage was done all over the ship, but the wing where her quarters are really took a beating.”

Piett’s eyes met Anakin’s with shared regret, but they had laid this particular issue to rest already. 

“She had this violin that was her mother’s and it was broken rather badly---really devastated her.”

Piett was now turning a knowing gaze on his friend. “So when you said that you needed to get some repairs done, and didn’t come planetside at all for the whole shore leave….” he whispered.

“Admiral....” Veers said just as quietly but in warning.

“Hush, both of you,” Anakin hissed.

“....he’d asked her for it, and she doesn’t know how he found out about it, but a few days later, she came back from shift, and it was on her chair, better than new.”

“That wasn’t cheap then. Where do you think he took it?” asked someone else, a sense of awe emanating from the group.

Piett was grinning widely at Veers now, and Anakin was treated to the knowledge that his ‘Iron General’ was capable of flushing. 

“Here’s the best part,” Wrexton said, lowering his voice conspiratorially, “Marisol thinks he did it himself, because apparently, he works with wood as a hobby.”

Someone whistled softly. 

“Yes he did,” Piett murmured, reaching to pat his friend on the shoulder briefly. 

“It was not the big issue you seem to think….” Veers began.

“It was to  _ her _ ,” Piett informed him quietly. “You took your whole leave, Max….”

“Well done, General,” said Anakin, and Piett nodded.

“It’s nice to get these reminders that my best friend is also the best man I know,” Piett whispered. 

Veers waved a hand at them both and took a drink. 

Anakin realized that someone was now telling a tale about….oh dear. 

“......so Lord Vader shot a hole in the side of the Lady.”

“He did  _ not _ ,” came the voice of the new transfer.

“I didn’t hear that. None of us were down there when that fight happened, so it’s all conjecture.”

“Ask the Chief. And the repair crews. Apparently, he had to go after this saboteur and he’d captured the Captain…”

Piett was rubbing the bad knee, and taking a drink as he listened. Veers shared a look with Anakin.

_ It sounded fantastic, but was in fact, true. He had indeed, shot a hole in his ship. _

“Right, but the General came in and shot him right between the eyes.”

Piett cocked his head, and lifted a skeptical eyebrow at Veers, who snorted silently. 

“No, the General was there, but he was the one who got shot.”

Anakin smiled.  _ Partially true _ .

“Right, and the Captain climbed four decks with a broken leg to throw a thermal detonator at the saboteur.”

Piett had a fist pressed to his mouth as he tried to suppress his laughter.

“You’re exaggerating this beyond belief---it was only two decks.”

“That makes it much more believable,” Veers hissed with a smile.

“Well whoever this saboteur was, Lord Vader fought him personally. And no, not exaggerating, I have a friend on Sergeant Ellery’s squad and he was there.”

Piett glanced at Anakin and he chuckled. 

_ How many of these tales were flowing around the Lady? _

“I heard the General lifted a beam that weighed over 300 pounds to get to the Captain.”

Veers looked at Piett. “Well if I  _ could _ have….”

“He’s fit, but I don’t think he could…”   
  


“No, honestly, you two would believe anything. You could be Gungans. It was Lord Vader and he used the Force.”

_ Well that was true. _

“And thank you for that,” Piett said sotto voice. 

“I have a drill to run in 15 minutes,” hissed Veers, “we’re going to have to leave.”

“These poor men…..” said Piett sympathetically. “Are you  _ sure… _ .?”

Anakin however, was grinning at Veers, who gave him a slight smile back. 

“You two are heartless,” Piett murmured, shaking his head. 

“Didn’t you just hear, Admiral?” Veers smirked, rising and putting on his cap. “I apparently have one after all.”

Piett shrugged. “Well, I can’t argue there I suppose.” He too replaced the cap. “My Lord? After you.”

Anakin led the way past the table of officers. 

“Good evening gentlemen,” he greeted, and enjoyed the wave of panic he felt in the Force.

“Good….” began one, slightly unsure, then fully panicking as Piett appeared, followed by Veers.

A scramble ensued to get to their feet.

“Admiral, ah, sir!”

“As you were,” Piett intoned mildly with a small smile, “have a good evening, gentlemen.”

“Men,” added Veers briefly, saluting with his glass.

A flurry of hands leapt to their heads. 

“General!” 

Anakin could hear Veers and Piett chuckling quietly behind him as they made their way to the doors. He reached with the Force to listen to the younger officers’ table…

_ Kriffing hell, do you think they were there the whole time??? _

_ That was Lord Vader. I’m still alive right? _

_ I don’t care about that, could they hear everything? _

_ I said the General was fit, stars, shoot me now…. _

_ That’s nothing, I called the Admiral short in his hearing. I’m going to be the one cleaning fresher tanks for sure. _

  
  


Yes, this had been a delightful evening indeed, Anakin decided. 

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credit to Impishgrin in the story This Time of Year (which I have bookmarked and is tremendously excellent) for the bit about Veers carving and working with wood in his spare time. They developed it so beautifully and I love the idea that he is really good with his hands like that.


	57. The Best Human

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Since I am working with Artoo much more extensively, I had fun with this little exercise of being in his dome. 
> 
> Starting in July I'm going to have to post less frequently due to work picking up more, but I'll try to keep to at least three times a week. Just a heads up! :) 
> 
> I'm so glad to have you all reading. Enjoy!

Captain Wedge Antilles landed his X-Wing smoothly next to Luke Skywalker’s and moved down the ladder swiftly to shake the hand of Executor’s Captain.

“Good to see you, Kelly.”

“And you Antilles.  _ Stars _ , when can we propose a change to the flight suits? My eyes hurt.”

The Captain laughed and slapped Kelly on the back. “To what? Black? I don’t think that would fly.”

“I keep saying that blue would be nice and neutral…,” Kelly responded with a sigh, “but I suppose it’s not as crucial in the budget at the moment.”

The two men walked out of the hangar bay together.

****

[Wedge Antilles had a green droid in the back of his X-Wing. Artoo eyed it.]

[The green droid stared back.]

[I am R2-D2, Artoo told it proudly. I am Luke Skywalker’s best friend.]

[The green droid stared at him.]

[Perhaps the green droid needed maintenance. Hello? said Artoo.]

[I am a green droid, said the droid.]

[ _ Definitely _ needed maintenance.]

[Yes, said Artoo, every being aboard knows you are a green droid. That was unnecessary information. What is your designation?]

[Wedge Antilles is my Captain.]

[Your processing must be slow, Artoo told it. He was good with helpful information like that. I did not ask for that information, he continued, I asked what your designation is?]

[My numbers? asked the green droid.]

[Talking to Threepio was less frustrating.]

[Yes. Artoo told it slowly. Your.  _ Numbers _ .]

[I have the numbers J3-M1. Wedge Antilles does not use this.]

[What does Wedge Antilles use? Artoo asked. At least they were progressing.]

[Wedge Antilles calls me ‘Jimmy’.]

[Ah. That is because Wedge Antilles is not the best human, Artoo told J3-M1. Luke Skywalker is the best human.]

[The green droid began to whir. That designation would mean that Wedge Antilles is less than Luke Skywalker.]

[ _ Now _ they were getting somewhere. Yes, said Artoo, I am glad you understand that.]

[J3-M1 flashed his holoprojector. I do not agree with this assessment, he told Artoo.]

[Hmmm. Perhaps that is because you are in need of maintenance, Artoo responded kindly. What would you like me to call you? I will not use ‘Jimmy’.]

[J3-M1 considered. You can call me J, the green droid responded. I am not in need of maintenance. Perhaps  _ you _ are in need of maintenance. Wedge Antilles commands Rogue Squadron.]

[Artoo rotated his dome. J, he said, perhaps you have not experienced as many ships as I have. Rogue Squadron is very good. But Luke Skywalker is a Jedi Knight. This makes him superior.]

[J raised his periscope slightly. He was clearly easily offended. Wedge Antilles has shot down more enemies than Luke Skywalker. With my assistance of course.]

[Oho, it was like that was it? Artoo shook his dome.  _ Green droids _ . That is because, Artoo responded loftily, Luke Skywalker was busy shooting the enormous round Death Station. I do not recall you being present for our victory there, J. I, of course, was helping Luke Skywalker at the time.]

[I may not have been present for that occasion, J responded, shaking back and forth in the cockpit in agitation, but I have downloaded the information that Wedge Antilles was there and assisted in that same destruction. So.]

[J, Artoo informed him, that is not the same as actually firing the weapons which destroyed it. Perhaps you did not understand that distinction. He was always ready to give the benefit of the doubt. Not all droids had his level of processing after all.]

[Wedge Antilles X-Wing was now trembling slightly as the green droid rocked more violently in his place. Wedge Antilles is a greater measurement of height than Luke Skywalker. This makes him superior.]

[Height was admittedly a touchy subject for Artoo. Measurements of height have absolutely nothing to do with superiority, he told the green droid. I saved all of my humans on the Death Station and I do not have the same height as they do.]

[I have more height than you do, J said, with a definite blink of his lights.]

[He did  _ not _ just blink his lights at Artoo. Artoo prepared to deal his crushing blow.  _ I _ , J3-M1--have Booster. Rockets.]

[Verify, said J.]

[I  _ will _ verify, Artoo shot back. Try not to leak oil in trepidation.]

[He fired them up to low power and rose slightly from the X-Wing. He could tell that J was impressed when some of his flaps rattled on the front. However, J was proving to be very obstinate. He was almost as obstinate as Threepio.]

[I see. I do not think you could maintain sustained flight, however. Perhaps you use them to entertain the small humans and mouse droids.]

[ _ Children _ ? Artoo clarified, wondering if Luke Skywalker would be unhappy if he used his electric prod on Wedge Antilles’ droid.]

[J blinked his holoprojector. That was my meaning, yes.]

[You will need to tighten your bolts, Artoo told him, firing himself to full power and proceeding to do a lap of the landing bay. Numerous techs were yelling in alarm, but Artoo was very skilled, and touched back down into his ship without any trouble.]

[Green droids, forsooth.]

[Hm, said J. But are you able to independently operate the X-Wing? Wedge Antilles allows me to do so. This is because, again, Wedge Antilles is the best human with the best droid.]

[And the X-Wing powered up and began to lift off the deck. Humans were further alarmed.]

[Artoo rolled his holoprojector. J, of  _ course _ I can operate Luke Skywalker’s X-Wing. I was operating X-Wings and other ships long before you were constructed. Observe.]

[He powered up…...and suddenly both ships lost power to settle firmly onto the deck of the bay.]

[Was there a malfunction? asked J, clearly not sure what had happened.]

[Ah, began Artoo.]

<This discussion is now over, declared the Lady, before you both get your circuits fried. The best human is obviously my Admiral.]

[What is your verification for that statement? J asked in a way that only newly minted droids were usually guilty of.]

[Artoo was wiser and shook his dome.]

<My Admiral commands  _ me _ , the Lady declared, and I allow it. Can you say the same, J3-M1?>

[It was very gratifying to watch the Lady deal with foolish droids, Artoo thought.]

<Blue one, sighed the Lady, your energies are better spent elsewhere.>

[Such as? Artoo asked hopefully.]

<Would you care to help me replace the sugar with salt for the Loyal one’s morning oatmeal?>

[Why yes. Yes, he would.]


	58. The Right Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, I've been mulling over this one for some time. I've gone away and come back. And then....it was just ready to be written. Obviously, this could go many ways, so it's somewhat surprising that my muse took me on the calm path. Maybe they both just need it. :)
> 
> At any rate---Anakin and Piett have the long needed conversation about Obi-Wan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes place about three weeks after Piett and the Princess

Anakin found him at the top of the cliffside, his duty jacket over one arm, gazing at the admittedly tremendous view.

“I had a hunch I might find you here,” he told him, coming up beside him.

“No,” said Piett, turning to smile at him, “You used the Force. As if Skywalkers have actual hunches.”

Anakin grinned.

_ That was a thought. When was the last time he’d had an actual hunch? _

“Regardless. This is quite the view. Where are the others?” Anakin asked, looking at the way the sky met the sea, which was flecked with white caps in the strong breeze. To the far right, below them, massive white foam rose as if trying to ascend the cliff, only to be frustrated once more. 

“Her highness is getting some much deserved time alone with General Solo.”   
  


_ And naturally, Piett knew where she was first. _ Anakin smiled. The man was a gift from the Force in so many ways, particularly to his family.

“Veers is running walker drills in sand about four miles north of here, and I am supposed to meet him later to ‘try a real target challenge’, his words not mine.”

“Mmm. I might need to come and observe that,” Anakin remarked, and got the expected sigh from his Admiral. 

_ Who was really a remarkable shot, as Anakin had reason to know, so he would absolutely treat himself to see how he did with the General’s walkers. _

“I had thought, by the way,” he continued, “that you were still getting your shoulder back in shape. Isn’t it a bit soon for this ah, ‘challenge’?”

Piett smiled again, and turned to look up at him with that deceptively calm expression, but his hazel eyes were betraying him with a rather wicked gleam. 

“If that is what the General needs to attempt to get ahead, I’m happy to oblige. And it’s fine, my Lord, just working out the kinks now.”

“Hmm.” Anakin raised an eyebrow at him. “You may recall, Piett, that I helped dress that wound--you have more than kinks at the moment.”

“My Lord…..I’m grateful you did. But we won’t have this opportunity to be planetside for walker drills like this for a while. As I said, let the General get his points.”

_ Piett was a very good friend. Anakin had reason to know that too. But he wouldn’t push his Admiral.  _

“Have you seen a sky quite like this in a while, Admiral?” he asked, turning to the late afternoon view, skidding clouds casting deeper shades of greens and blues on the ocean below.

“No my Lord,” Piett said, turning with him. He was quiet for a moment. “I love the ocean,” he said eventually, “the first time I ever saw one personally I was already a lieutenant in the Imperial navy.”

“Yes, well, I can sympathize, having spent a decade on Tatooine, and then being trained on Coruscant.”

_ And why was he mentioning that? He didn’t talk about that---ever. _

And Piett knew it. He kept quite still, his gaze on the massive wave attacking the cliff. Anakin could feel him trying to decide what to do. And the curious thing was----Anakin himself wasn’t sure what he wanted Piett to do.

Piett tilted his chin ever so slightly. 

_ Battle stance then.  _

“May I ask who trained you, my Lord?” Ever polite, and allowing him an easy and calm refusal….

And almost to his own surprise, Anakin found himself answering. 

“Kenobi did.”

And that name was one that absolutely everyone around him knew not to mention. This was the point that most people (all of them really) would swiftly change the subject. 

“You knew him considerably longer than I had thought, my Lord,” said Piett, and Anakin could sense that he knew exactly what he was doing. But then he had long known just how strong the Admiral’s spine was. And he himself…...he wanted to speak about this.

“We should walk for this conversation, Admiral,” he said. “General Veers is that way?” 

He could feel Piett’s surprise, but the man kept his face bland with years of practice.

“Yes, my Lord.” He turned with Anakin, and they walked side by side along the edge of the grassy cliff.

“Yes, Kenobi was my master for roughly a decade.”

_ You were my brother! _

He looked resolutely ahead at the open skyline and allowed the strong breeze to help him be calm. 

“We fought in the Clone wars together. We were….close.”

Piett gave a little nod, the breeze ruffling his short hair. “I suspected as much, my Lord. Only those closest to us can cause the greatest…..suffering.”

And Piett would know that. Anakin had done some homework after he and Veers had returned from Axxila some while back. 

“Quite. I believe he suspected my secret marriage, but he never said.”

“What, ah, what was he like, sir?” Piett asked, and there was something odd in his demeanor and….. _ well _ . He was shielding as Anakin had taught him.  _ Swiftly putting things together then…. _

“Piett.” Anakin stopped, and his Admiral paused as well, striving his utmost to keep the calm and unruffled manner he was so very good at. 

“This may sound slightly,  _ odd _ , Admiral, but…..have you  _ seen _ Kenobi?”

“No, my Lord.” 

_ Not incredulous enough a tone, but he was not lying. Piett didn’t lie after all. But there was a guilty feel…. _

“True, let me ask another way as non-Force sensitives don’t  _ see _ Force ghosts.”

_ There. A slight twitch. _

“Have you….. _met_ him?”

“I don’t know that I could say….”

_ He had. He knew it. _

“Luke helped didn’t he?”

He could feel that he was right.  _ Kenobi, you dead blue bastard. Of course you’d be curious about Piett. _

But Anakin found himself chuckling. 

“How did  _ that _ go, Admiral?”

Piett smiled and looked out over the ocean.

“It was very strange my Lord, as you can imagine. Your son had to interpret for me.”

“Anything tremendously enlightening to share with you?” Anakin asked, and was slightly surprised at the emotion from Piett in reaction to the question. The Admiral began walking once more. Anakin joined him and allowed the silence for a while. 

“He…..indicated that perhaps…” he stopped again, and was wrestling with himself. “My Lord, I should say that I am very honored that we’re discussing this at all, given that I am aware you do not prefer to do so. I am unsure however, that I should pursue….”

Anakin was deeply curious now, but he could also feel that he needed to reassure the Admiral of something as well.

“Piett. I am not going to pitch you off the cliff or whatever you are imagining.”

“Well  _ now _ I’m imagining that, my Lord, thank you so much for  _ that _ !” But he had that quirk of the mouth that was so very like Kenobi’s….

“Humor aside, Admiral, you are my friend. One of the very few I should add. So I am asking in that capacity, what did he say that has you so very….. _ troubled _ ?”

He could feel Piett’s mixed emotions of pleasure and trepidation. He also felt the moment that the Admiral decided to tell him.

Piett kept his eyes on his boots as they strode along. 

“He said that I might be the only one at the moment to ask why you and he fell out.”

_ Did he now. _ Yes, Anakin could see why Piett was reluctant to share this. Was he able to talk about it? Tell Piett about the creation of the monster that had made his life hell? The monster who had destroyed the lives of millions? Nearly the most painful moment of his life…..

He realized he had been silent for some time, and Piett’s uncertainty was growing. All right then. He trusted his Admiral in every way. 

“Are you truly wanting to know that information, Piett? It cannot be unheard,” he said, giving the man an out.

“If you are willing to share it, my Lord. I am…... _ learning _ that it is easier sometimes to not carry a load by oneself.”

_ Anakin would need to thank Veers for helping Piett see that. No doubt his daughter had something to do with that as well.  _

“That is….true. This one is rather ugly. And you would be the only one living to know this...information.”

“You are now trying to frighten me off my Lord.”

“I did not think that was possible, Admiral.” He gave him a smile as Piett snorted in pleased embarrassment. 

“Very well. I should add that neither of my children know this. I am not sure I am ready for them too.”

“Of course, my Lord.”

Anakin took a deep breath of the salty air.

“Obi Wan tried to stop my fall to the Dark side,” he began. “I had been….turned by Palpatine as you now know. He manipulated me and I ----weak fool that I was---- believed his lies.”

“What did he promise you, my Lord?” Piett asked him, glancing up.

“He…..”

_ Padme’....forgive me. _

“He promised to help me save my wife from death.”

There was a long silence. Then….

“And how old were you then?” the Admiral asked quietly.

“I was 22 at the time.”

“So young…” Piett let slip.

“As were we all, Admiral. For instance, I discovered that Ensign Piett lied about his age when he joined the Axxilan fleet.”

Piett closed his eyes briefly and then opened them again.

“Did Veers tell you?”

“The General is a very good friend, Piett. I did my own digging. You were quite outstanding even then.”

“Thank you, my Lord. But we were discussing….”

“Yes, I know Piett.”

_ The man still struggled with compliments. Though those were not all happy memories for the Admiral either.  _

“At any rate, I believed him.” His voice was thick with self recrimination.

“My Lord.” Piett paused, and looked squarely up at his commanding officer. “If I had been told there was a way to….to save someone I loved, I think I would have been eager to listen to their direction as well.”

_ And that was kind of him, but Piett was a far better man than he had been. Anakin very much doubted that he would have committed the atrocities Anakin had. _

“Thank you Admiral. But in this case it led to me, not only spurning the counsel of my friend, but also my wife. I turned to the Dark side. And it was then that Obi-Wan confronted me on a planet called Mustafar.”

They walked on and Anakin brought himself to the most difficult part----well almost. He could not yet share with Piett how Padme’ had been there, and what he had done. 

“We….we had a lightsaber duel in very dangerous circumstances.”

“You fought your best friend….” Piett trailed off.

Anakin knew he was imagining if he could ever do that with the General.

_ I have the high ground. _

“I made even more foolish choices in my arrogance. Obi-Wan was…..more experienced. I can see now he tried to give me the opportunity to stop…..”

_ I loved you! _

“I did not and lost both legs and an arm in one foolish move.”

He felt Piett’s shock.

“General Kenobi….did  _ that _ ?”

Anakin sighed. “He did not wish to. But think on it, Admiral. You know what I was. What I put you through. Did you never wish to kill me?”

“I….my Lord, I have to confess that never occurred to me. But our circumstances were different as well. You were always my commander, despite the difficulties….” Piett switched his jacket to his other arm and frowned in thought. 

“I wished to  _ stop _ you at times, yes. I can honestly say even at the darkest times I would not have…..well I had the men to think of, sir.”

_ Yes, Piett had always put himself between his crew and danger, including danger from their commander. _

“I wonder if you will ever know, Piett, how very glad I am that you joined the Imperial navy.”

A swift glance at him, and a little smile. “Thank you, sir.”

“It’s not fair to ask you that, I know. And you are right. Different circumstances. How many times have I cursed the ones that had Kenobi and I destroy each other.” He glanced up to the clouds before continuing.

“I….do not know if you are aware, but Mustafar is a volcanic planet….”

“I can guess at the rest, my Lord,” Piett told him carefully. “How did you survive such injuries?”

_ He is my friend. He served Darth Vader. He saw the scars then. This will not drive him away. _

“Palpatine found me and got me immediate treatment.”

Anakin looked ahead. He could just see the metal beasts on the beach in the distance.

“So you see, Admiral, my ‘falling out’ as you so carefully put it, with Obi-Wan, led directly to the creation of Darth Vader. He told my son that Anakin Skywalker died that day---murdered at Vader’s hand. That is in many ways, quite true. Many years after that----I killed Obi-Wan, not knowing I did so in front of my son….and my daughter.”

Piett was also gazing at the walkers as they strode along. 

_ What was he thinking? He could sense great turmoil in the Admiral’s emotions. _

“I see now,” Piett said at last, keeping his eyes ahead, “why you have been so very reluctant to say that you had friends. I….can understand that in a distant way, though in my case, I am more reluctant to believe I might have a…..a family.”   


  
_ Anakin was touched at the deep vulnerability there. Yes, given what he had learned of Piett’s past, he understood that. And he was right---there were some similarities. _

“Allow me to assure you, Piett, that you absolutely have a family. You are a rather integral part of it.”

The Admiral smiled slightly. 

“Thank you. I would say the same to you regarding your friends. I hope that you can trust what I said some time back. I forgave what happened with Darth Vader. You, I know, will bear that weight, but I am willing to help you where I can.”

_ You already have in so many ways. _

“Thank you, Piett.”

He looked out over the ocean again, its color changing with the late afternoon light. 

Someone else knew---knew the forging of Darth Vader. And he didn't hate him. Anakin drew a breath.

“I’m still learning how to be a friend once more. I’m glad you decided to pursue the topic, Admiral.”

“Well…..he told me that it would be clear when I should  _ press _ you on the matter.” 

Anakin rolled his eyes. “Vague Force advice I see.”

Piett laughed. It was something Anakin enjoyed hearing. He hadn’t known that his serious and reserved Admiral could laugh like that until a few years ago. They had all been released in many ways from Darth Vader’s influence. 

“Your son said the same.”

“Glad to see Luke doesn’t just lap it all up then. So was the time clear to you then, Piett?”

“Well…..” the Admiral paused. “We were walking far enough from the cliff edge, I felt it was safe enough.” 

Anakin turned to look at him and was rewarded with Piett’s smirk. 

“One might almost believe you are mocking me, Admiral.”

“That would be bold indeed, my Lord.”

Anakin grinned. 

“Well then Admiral, shall we see how you hold up in this challenge of General Veers’ ?”

  
  



	59. An Unusual Anniversary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unorthodox way of showing some love to everyone's favorite General.

_ Green eyes that knocked him over every time. _

_ The way she frowned when she concentrated on a task, subduing whatever she was working on to her will, be that the meat for dinner, or the latest design for her business. _

_ Arms around his neck. Her scent-- like fresh orange blossoms. “Such a long deployment, Max. Maybe we’ll come out halfway through to meet you. Would you like that?” _

_ Zev will need you my dear. Promise me, he stays with you. _

Veers stared into his heavy clear glass tumbler as though he could see her face in the bottom. She had preferred spirits herself, and this particular one had been her favorite with its overtones of citrus and almonds. 

If he closed his eyes, he might almost imagine that she was sitting across from him, enjoying her own drink quietly as she pondered the stories she would tell him about all the people around them. It was one of their favorite things to do on the rare nights they had just to be out by themselves. She would watch the crowd in the bar or the restaurant, and then tell him their supposed backstory. She was witty and fun, and none of his men would believe that ‘Iron Max’ could laugh as much as he did with her.

He opened his eyes again and he was looking at the heavy dark wood of the counter----it had seen many centuries of drink and customers. The pub was warm and large---voices a pleasant level around the main room. 

He preferred such an establishment these days over the wilder ones that he may have frequented when he was a younger officer. She would have preferred this as well--an older building with so much wood and history--yes she would have wanted to know about it….

The sudden smell of rain and fresh air drew his attention to the fact that Piett had arrived at his side.

“Apologies for being late, Max, the representatives had ‘one more question’ for about the last 30 minutes. Stood outside in this the whole time---I believe they forgot that while their species is waterproof, ours isn’t!”

He was unbuttoning his heavy wool overcoat as he spoke, the water glimmering on its surface as he hung it over the back of the bar stool next to Veers, and removed his cap briefly to shake the water off of that as well.

“Firmus,” the General said, amused, as he replaced it and slid onto the seat beside him, “we’re indoors, you really don’t need to wear your cap.”

“Max...” his friend sighed.

Veers knew perfectly well why he didn’t want to take it off. Piett’s hair curled in damp weather, short as it was, and he hated it, as he felt it made him look undignified. 

“Admiral, take off the cap. Honestly.”

Piett scowled, but complied, laying it neatly on the bar beside him and running a futile hand over his head in an attempt to calm things. Veers privately thought it made him look more patrician, but his friend was convinced otherwise.

“I’m glad you ordered since I was so terribly behind,” Piett told him, summoning the bar droid.

“I’ve only been here fifteen minutes, it wasn’t that bad.”

They were here in this system so that the princess could work some diplomacy magic on behalf of the New Republic. It had also meant that Skywalker and the Senior officers of the Executor had come and spent the last few days in many discussions with the officials from various planets in this system. 

Overall things had gone well. The city in which they were meeting was pleasant and had many interesting attractions and architecture. Piett had made sure to cycle as much of the Lady’s crew through shore leave as he could reasonably schedule. Currently, looking around the room, Veers could see a large portion of their crew represented, including Solo, Venka and a mix of naval and army officers. This was their last evening here---everyone was taking advantage of it. 

The only major downside of the planet was the near constant rain. The indigenous species, the Mersthwaite, were indeed unique and waterproof beings, as Piett had noted and didn’t seem to mind it at all. 

But Veers and Piett were here for reasons other than just getting some much needed time for a break. This was the day that Myra had succumbed to her illness, and Veers had marked the anniversary every year. 

Shortly after he met Piett, the Captain had found him on this day, years before, in an officer’s lounge on the Lady and quietly joined him. He wasn’t sure how Piett had known, though a little homework would have revealed it. Regardless, Piett had been with him every year since. 

The Admiral’s drink arrived, and he turned to clink his glass against Veers’.

“To Myra,” he said simply, and they both drank.

“You have a girl then, General?” said a voice in tones that were in no way pleasant.

Veers saw Piett’s face change from friend to predator in a blink, as he lowered his glass slowly to the counter, gazing at the speaker behind Veers.

“Walk away now, and I will endeavor to forget I heard you,” the Admiral said in glacial tones as Veers finally turned himself.

A group of Alliance army officers.  _ And how often must he deal with this perception that he was a cold butcher? Did people believe he didn’t mourn the losses of his own troops at the hands of the Rebels? _

“This isn’t something that concerns you Admiral. Just because Vader appointed you doesn’t give you authority over us.”

_ They weren’t green officers. They were not here for a bar brawl. Piett was more than capable of dealing with ‘drunk and disorderly’. _

But Veers tightened his hand around his glass. 

“The last time I checked,” Piett responded, still in tones that would have had most men spacing themselves, “I was installed as the Fleet Admiral at the behest of the New Republic government. Do you not acknowledge that either? If so, I’ll be placing you under arrest now.”

“The same government that allowed  _ him _ ,” another man jerked a thumb at Veers, “to have authority over the army?”

“I’m still puzzled how a man like you got a girl? Did you pay for her?” asked the leader and a wash of red swept over Veers, but Firmus was beating him to it, smoothly descending the stool to get up close to the man. 

He was (unsurprisingly) a good deal shorter, but his anger and  _ command presence  _ more than made up for that.

“You do not know what you speak of, you son of a Hutt. Picking a fight does nothing. You may, however, apologize to General Veers for your crass remarks concerning his  _ wife _ , and  _ move on _ .”

“Oho, a  _ wife _ is it? Well where is she now? Did she leave you?”

“Maybe she’s dead,” piped up another, and Veers flinched slightly. 

_ Damn it, he could rise above this. These people weren’t worth it. _

“You might wish  _ you _ were if you keep talking,” Firmus stated, murder in his hazel eyes.

“I seem to recall hearing,  _ Admiral _ , that the last time you stepped between this murderer and a conflict, it nearly killed you. Maybe you should learn from that.”

_ They had grossly insulted his wife and his dearest friend---perhaps he needed to fulfill the expectation of ‘murderer’. _

He rose to his feet and was satisfied to see the slight gulps from several of the men.

“Are you threatening a superior officer?” Piett snapped, quivering slightly in his wrath, “You seem keen to rack up a number of charges,  _ commander _ .”

“I don’t see that there is anything so superior about you, really,” another said.

Veers was at Piett’s shoulder.

“You are starting something that you cannot finish,” he stated softly, his blood singing with the desire to  _ damage _ . 

“Max,” Piett murmured at his side. “He has to throw the first punch or I’m going to have to arrest myself along with you.”

But suddenly, Veers realized that numerous others had come up behind them, Solo and Venka at the front.

“What seems to be the problem?” drawled the Corellian, resting his hand ever so casually on his blaster.

“Solo, what the kriff are you doing with these Imperial bastards?” the leader asked. “Surely you of all people know….”

  
  
“Know  _ what _ , commander? There’s a lot I know that you don’t. I don’t have time to write those books for you. Also,” he turned to Venka at his side, “did he just insult the Fleet Admiral and General Veers in our hearing?”

“I rather think he did, Solo,” Venka replied, face hard.

_ Veers rather thought that Solo might be rubbing off on their Rear Admiral.  _

“I’ve been itching to get a piece of you for a long time, Veers,” snarled the tall commander.

“And this seemed the perfect time to you did it?” clipped Piett, his hands clenched behind his back. Veers could tell he was doing his utmost to restrain the urge to hit the sneering man in front of them.

“Perhaps we should send you to meet your dead wife,” the leader said, and Veers had to lunge to get an arm around a furious Admiral.

“First punch can’t be ours, right?” he murmured in his friend’s ear.

“Arrest me,” growled Piett, pushing at his arm.

_ Firmus, you are the absolute best. _

“Hiding behind your friend, are you, Veers?”

“Not at all. Come at me, space trash,” he said with the calm of battle certainty, and was delighted when the man swung. 

He ducked it easily, and contacted hard to send his adversary back into the others, like a bowling ball into pins.

“That counted right?” he shot at the Admiral.

“It absolutely did,” his friend answered grimly, as the rest of the former Rebel group launched themselves at the officers. 

The leader came to his feet again with his mouth bleeding and made for Veers once more, but Piett clearly felt it was his turn, and, in a series of text book moves, had the man on his knees before he gave him a staggering uppercut that dropped him to the floor.

“I hope you don’t mind, Max,” he panted, “but he wasn’t worth your time.”

The General grinned at his friend. “ _ Force _ I wish we’d known each other 20 years ago.” He ducked another punch and completed a one- two knock out to send another man to the floor.

Solo was brawling with a style of long experience and Venka was nearby, back to back with a young lieutenant, both of them putting forth credible effort. 

It was over swiftly, and Veers realized that somewhere in there, Piett had retrieved his blaster and was now covering the subdued attackers. 

The only people left in the pub were in uniform, perhaps twenty of them, and everyone paused as Piett’s tones rang out over them all. It seemed that his blaster was noted as well, because everyone got very quiet indeed.

“I think that we’ve had quite enough of  _ that _ ,” his friend stated, eyes cold and tone so very Imperial.

“You commander, and your friends, are under arrest, first--for assaulting a superior officer in General Veers, second--for gross and deliberate disrespect to General Veers, and third---for being useless bastards.”

A ripple of amusement from the assembled men around them. 

“Rear Admiral Venka,” Piett summoned, “please see to it that these men are escorted back to the ship's brig. I will deal with the matter when we return.”

Venka gave direction to several officers, and the beaten and resentful attackers were taken out. 

_ That was a first for recognizing the anniversary of this day _ , Veers thought, as Piett spoke with the owner and smoothed things over.

His friend returned to his side. “I’m so terribly so---” Piett began but was interrupted by Solo’s voice behind them. 

“Gentlemen, I’d like to propose a toast---to the General!”

And Veers turned to see the room raise their glasses to him, a mix of Imperial and former Rebels, all enthusiastically making the room resound with---

“The General!”

“The General,” Piett murmured at his side, lifting his glass to his lips and smiling. 

Veers nodded at the room, and would have turned back to the bar, but the young lieutenant from earlier was making his way nervously up to him. 

“Lieutenant Scraps, General,” he said offering his hand, “Just wanted to say it’s an honor to serve with you, sir.” 

Veers raised his eyebrows at the name as he shook the young man’s hand. 

“Oh it’s his actual name,” commented Venka, joining them with a grin. “Transferred to Executor a few months back.” 

“Welcome then, lieutenant,” Piett said, and offered his hand when it became clear that Scraps wasn’t sure if he should salute or give a handshake to the Admiral. 

And suddenly all the men were coming up to Veers to shake his hand, and he found himself rather moved by the display of appreciation.

_ Stop smirking, Piett. _

Eventually, the men all went back to their discussions, Solo and Venka offering an extra salute, before they headed out into the rain. 

Piett was gathering his coat and hat as well.

“Shall we, Max?”

Veers was quite ready to get back to the ship.

They shrugged on their coats and hats, and made their way out into the drizzle, both of them pushing their hands into their pockets as they walked back towards the shuttle bays.

“I thought that was rather encouraging to see a mix of Rebels and Imperials both defending you _and_ offering a toast,” Firmus commented.

Veers gave a small smile.

“And Solo proposed it. Wonders never cease. But I agree, given the…. _ comments _ of our assailants, that was encouraging as you say.”

They were quiet for a moment, their boots splashing through small puddles in the pavement. 

“Max, I really am so sorry that happened today of all days.”

“Mmmm. A first, indeed.”

“I’m afraid Myra wouldn’t have approved of that,” Piett offered, glancing at him.

_ Well actually …... _

“Myra would very much have approved of  _ you  _ in there,” Veers replied, feeling a wash of warm affection for the Admiral, “you should have heard her when someone criticized my actions, be it verbally or in a holonet article.”

“Oh yes?” Piett asked, quirking an eyebrow.

“She was like your princess in several ways. More reserved, true, but she was very good with words….” he smiled thinking about it. 

“She would have approved of your defense. And of all those men who backed us up. She would have been very pleased that both of us came out without a scratch as well.” He paused.

“We  _ did _ , correct?”

The Admiral snorted. “Stunningly, yes, we managed that without injury. I will chalk that up to your excellent training.”

“Thank you, Firmus. Also, arresting them for being  _ useless bastards _ is something I will remember for a long time.”

His friend smiled. “I might make it an official category in the regs.”

“Myra would have liked that too---suited her sense of humor.”

“Max…..” Piett trailed off a bit and stared ahead for a moment. “This is the most you’ve told me about her. I wonder, could we add that to this anniversary? Tell me a bit about her?”

_ Had he not done that? It felt natural to share this with Piett. He wanted the Admiral to know her as he had. _

“We don’t have to wait for this day, Firmus. Thank you though. I think I should start by telling you that she turned me down four times before she would consent to go out with me.”

His friend turned an unbelieving expression on him. “Only four?”

Veers let out a small chuckle, and Piett gave him a gentle nudge in the side with his elbow. 

“All right, yes, apparently she lost her mind on the fifth time.”

The two friends walked on in the rain. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to note I managed to get everyone planetside and did NOT injure anyone while doing so. I hear those of you in the back snorting and telling me it's a fluke and.....
> 
> ...you're so right. ;) But I managed this time!!! :)


	60. Daughters Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a little idea I had for a few reflective pieces. So the next one with will be sons, and as you see, there will be a part two for daughters. :)
> 
> This takes place a few days after the end of Fidelity.

Anakin watched as his daughter moved restlessly around the Admiral’s conference room, coming to lean, perhaps unconsciously, against Piett’s chair at the large round table. 

She was so like his wife. How had he never seen it? Yet one more way in which the Dark side had blinded him so badly….. and done such irrevocable damage to their relationship. 

She had requested this meeting, as he had told Piett, and this gave him hope as they moved forward. He had no illusions---she was not desirous to be close---but he sensed that she wanted peace with him, to be civil. 

He did his best not to think of what could have been. If he had listened to Obi-Wan. If he had listened…….to Padme’. 

Even on Mustafar…..even then, he could have left with her….

HIs daughter glanced sharply at him, and he realized that she was likely feeling his regret rather strongly. 

She took a breath and he saw the mantle of the Senator descend upon her. 

_ And that too, was Padme’. _

“Thank you for this, Father. I have come to the conclusion, given recent events, that…..that this is a long overdue conversation and that is——” she paused. 

“---my own fault.”

She was staring down at the Admiral’s chair and brought her gaze back up to him--those rich brown eyes swirling with many things. 

“I have been facing the fact that you could have died a few days ago. I would have been sorry for that, I can say that we have come that far.”

They shared a rueful smile.

“But with you would have died all knowledge of my blood family. Of…..of my mother. And I have…...delayed this too long.”

“I understand your reasons, Leia,” he told her.

_ You have overcome so much my daughter----I am sorry that a great deal of your heartache has come from my hand.  _

“I know that you do,” she sighed, “but….while I agree that I have very justified reasons not to speak to you, that is not the person I wish to be. And it would be on my shoulders if I do not seek what you know.”

_ I will gladly give it, but I will bleed while I do. _

She moved again, this time over to the vibrant red and green plants flanking the doors in their large bronze pots. She ran a finger over the velvety texture of the leaves. 

_ She was drawing comfort from these things distinctive to her Admiral. He was both glad and pained by that. _

“Some while back now, you tried to tell me about my mother and I----was not ready to hear it. Since then, I have done a great deal of research into who Padme’ Amidala was.” 

She came around to stand across from him. 

“I have found a great deal on her career. I managed to…...to listen to one of her speeches.”

_ He couldn’t do that yet. He had tried. He broke down three seconds in. Because the last time he heard her voice….. _

“It was good to be at her tomb. I could feel her presence there and it was so lovely. I am grateful we all went.”

_ But….. _

“But it is not the same as your memories. Good or ill, she loved you, you are my Father, and…...and I would like you to tell me about my mother. Please.”

_ And it would be opening wound after wound, but if it helped to heal his daughter---to bring her some measure of peace and happiness--he would. _

“Where would you like me to start?” he asked quietly, and she sat at last, across from him.

“How did you meet?” she queried, crossing her legs and lacing her fingers together over her knees.

“On Tatooine. They needed parts for her ship and they came to the shop that I…..that I worked at.”

_ And he couldn’t, he was not ready, to share the childhood of slavery that he had.  _

“They?” Leia asked.

“She was with the Jedi Master Qui Gon Jinn and…….with Obi-Wan.”

His daughter lowered her eyes at the name, knowing his discomfort at saying it.

“They were protecting her, and trying to get to Coruscant. She was disguised as one of her own handmaidens when I first met her. Apparently, she did that frequently. It allowed her to do much that she couldn’t in her role as the Queen.”

And while it was painful, he smiled at the memory.

Leia did as well. 

“I can understand that.”

“You are so…….so very alike, my daughter,” he said softly.

“Can I ask…...what was it that drew you to her?” Leia asked.

“You already know how beautiful she was,” Anakin began. Leia nodded.

“....but, it was more than that. Even before I knew she was the queen, there was the way she carried herself----the confidence and command that she exuded--I found that irresistible. And, her eyes…...they were so--- _ sad _ \---when we met. I knew later that she was bearing the weight of her people and their suffering. But she could talk with her eyes. I know people say that, but not everyone does.  _ She _ did.”

_ Ani, I’m pregnant. _

Leia was quiet, watching his face as he spoke.

“You…...you really loved her,” she said at last.

“I…...she was my world,” Anakin replied, throat tight.

_ I’m not going to die in childbirth, Anakin I promise you. _

_ No,  _ **_I_ ** _ promise you. _

A weighty silence between himself and his daughter, and he could anticipate her next question…..

“Then,  _ why _ , Father would you take that and…..?”

“Because I was a young and arrogant fool, Leia. Because I was convinced I could save her on my own!”

She stared. “Save her? From what?”

_ Right. These were waters that he didn’t want to navigate deeply yet. _

“I had visions,” he started carefully.

“Like Luke’s?” she asked.

_ Bespin. So many minefields for them….. _

“Yes, much like that. But, I too did not heed advice, in this case from Padme’ herself. You have likely heard that the future is always changing….”

“I had a Force vision,” Leia said, stunning him. 

He stared at her.

“ _ When _ ?”

She blushed slightly at his scrutiny and pushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear. 

“Well, shared it actually. Luke and I were meditating and we saw, well we saw things that happened on Coruscant, as well as what could have happened.”

_ Did they now. Luke hadn’t shared that little nugget yet. A shared vision….this twin thing was something new and interesting in the Force. _

“And you came to rescue us….”

“Yes, but we consulted with everyone first. Well, Luke didn’t exactly, but the Admiral and the General were going, we all decided that they would…..”

She was speaking quickly.  _ Nervous about something…. _

“Leia,” he stopped her, smiling slightly in spite of himself.

“Did you do something….. _ rash _ ?”

She was definitely blushing now. “I---- oh kriff it----apparently, I am also capable of going off on unsanctioned missions. It’s your fault Luke and I are like this.”

_ But there was no reproach in her emotions.  _

He could guess. “You snuck in with your brother.”

“I knew he was going, and….and there was no talking the Admiral out of it, and I couldn’t let him throw himself in front of us yet again….” she paused once more. 

_ And he well knew by now that Piett was hers, of course she would come for him. _

“And you’re family. I told Luke….I would have come if it was  _ just _ you in danger. I hope you can believe that.” She looked up from her hands, and into his eyes, and something in him eased.

_ He did believe that. She would have come for him.  _

“Well,” he told her, smiling slightly, “you come by that honestly. And I will not shoulder all the blame there. Your mother would have done the same.”

He felt her astonishment. 

“Really? When I read about her, nothing says….”

“Of course none of the history will report such things. Likely much of it is not known anyway. But trust me when I tell you----she undertook more risky and doubtful missions than you or Luke ever….” 

And suddenly he couldn’t speak. Because, of course, the last mission she had undertaken had been alone. Her riskiest one yet. To save him. Even after she had heard of the horrible things he had done…..

“Father?” said Leia softly and naturally, she could feel his distress, but he couldn't speak of this. It was not the time for his daughter to hear it, certainly. 

He shook his head and she rose to come to him.

“Is that….is that how she died then?” she asked, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Anakin made a mighty effort. “Yes,” he said hoarsely, “but please do not ask that of me yet. I cannot speak of it.”

“All right,” she said. “Tell me something else then. One of your happiest memories with her.”

_ That he could do. _

He reached up to take her hand and look up into her heart shaped face, deeply grateful to see her compassion and not the contempt that had been there merely a year before.

“That is simple, my daughter.”   
  


“Your wedding?” she smiled.

“No.”

He felt her confusion.

“When she told me she was pregnant.”

_ Our baby is a blessing. _

He felt his daughter’s pleasure as she no doubt felt the truth in his words.

“She was convinced that we were having a boy. But I……” he rose, still holding that small hand. 

“....I was certain it was a girl. Like her mother.” He smiled down at her, and suddenly there were tears in her eyes.

“Neither of us knew that we were both correct.”

She squeezed his hand gently, and withdrew to go and stand by the viewport. He felt conflict within her, but waited.

“I do not know if you can understand how deeply I wish things had been different,” she said at last, without turning around. “How I wish that we could have all been together.”

_ He could indeed feel her pain. He felt it too, every day. _

“You know that I can say nothing that will erase or ease what I am guilty of, my daughter.”

“I do. And I am not asking that. It will be something we live with.” She turned and wiped the tears that had spilled over. 

“Thank you for talking to me, Father. It is…...good to hear about her. And I would like to hear more, but right now…”

“I understand.” 

They regarded each other, father and daughter, then she gave a little nod. 

“I’ll see you when you leave,” she told him, and moved to the doors.

As they hissed behind her he moved to the spot by the view port that she had vacated. 

Sometimes he had days when he wished he had died on the Death Star. That he had saved his son and just….

But this conversation reminded him, yet again, why he was glad he hadn't. He would never have had the chance to make any sort of peace with his daughter. Never been able to tell either of his children about the remarkable woman who had been their mother. 

Anakin watched the stars for a long time.


	61. Sons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As promised a little drabble on sons.
> 
> Veers keeps giving me feels and I want to give him hugs. :)

Like a giant flock of birds coming in to nest on the cliff face, or perhaps the rocky beach, fighter after fighter came in to land in the Executor’s biggest hangar bay. 

The whooping of pilots began to fill the air as canopies were shoved back and ladders brought to the sides of their ships, and exuberant men began to climb down to hug, clap each other on the back, and give little pats to the sides of their fighters.

Anakin watched them unobtrusively from the large catwalk above the deck. The scene before him was a far cry from the days of Imperial sobriety. Oh, they had celebrated their kills and successes, certainly, but they did it in the mess halls or more private settings. 

_ That Rebel influence rubbing off, _ he reflected, watching a particular blonde head, surrounded by a large group of space jockeys, each vying for his attention and approval. 

Yes indeed, Commander Skywalker was the major figure of the hour. They had achieved a successful mission, in conjunction with General Veers and his walkers, planetside, and not a pilot had been lost. 

It was a new tactic they had been training for, and had the opportunity to utilize against this particular hold out cell of Empire loyalists. It had entailed a great deal of cross branch unity and skill sets, and had paid off spectacularly. 

The Star Destroyers had needed to be as close to atmosphere as they could, in order to drop the fighters and AT-AT’s together to provide enough of an element of surprise. 

Piett had been running regular drills with the Captains in the fleet out near Corellia, in preparation to bring their big ships in close without causing them to be damaged by the gravitational pull of the planet. 

Veers had been working closely with Luke as they came up with maneuvers that could be coordinated between his giant Herd and the X-Wings on the ground. 

The hundreds of hours had turned in great rewards, and they had all but obliterated the hold of the Empire in this particular sector. 

Anakin sensed someone coming to join him, and waited as General Veers came to lean against the same railing by his commander. 

He looked tired, and rumpled---clearly he had just removed his cuirass and helmet----but he had a very satisfied air about him.

“And did all of your Herd come back safely, General?” Anakin asked, watching Luke and Captain Antilles share stories below him, to the awe of the more junior pilots around them. 

“We took some severe damage to 8 and 14, my Lord, but they came back with us and the engineers believe that they can repair them on board---no need to ship them off to Commenor for major overhaul,” Veers replied, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck.

“Very impressive job by your son, my Lord,” he continued. “Though I am trying to recall seeing a celebration quite like that after Imperial missions….”

Anakin chuckled lightly. “I was just thinking something similar, General.”

“Is Piett happy with how things went? Or should I expect another drill tomorrow morning?” Veers asked, with a small smile. 

Anakin snorted. Piett’s very high standards started with himself, and then had a trickle down effect for the rest of the fleet. Anakin was reasonably sure that all of the captains could do these particular maneuvers in their sleep by now. 

“I assume he is satisfied, though he will no doubt be working on an assessment right now on how he could improve various aspects for next time. As soon as he finishes his tea, of course.”

Veers raised an eyebrow at him. 

“Apparently, Piett is important enough to merit a personal tea delivery, before the princess can join us here.” Anakin shook his head. 

“She’s spoiling my best Admiral.”

He felt Veers’ appreciation on behalf of his friend for that statement, and the General gave a small smile. 

“I have to admit sir, that in Piett’s case, I am of the opinion he really can’t be spoiled enough.”

_ Deep conviction in those words. Careful, General, your heart is showing. _

“He is a rare case where that is perhaps, true.”

Both men watched the deck as the pilots began to dissipate to shower and debrief.

“Will you be joining them for the debrief sir?” Veers asked as Luke cast a quick glance up at them.

_ Of course he had known they were here the whole time.  _

“No, my son is more than capable of handling that. I will join you all in a few hours for the larger debrief.” He nodded at Luke who grinned up at him, and went back to his X-Wing to speak with Artoo.

_ A sudden spike of quickly suppressed pain in Veers and Anakin was reminded that the General had once had a son. _

_ And he was really quite terrible at these discussions, but he should try, he owed Veers far more than that. _

“You had a son, I believe, General. How old would he have been now?” 

_ Surprise. Pain. Uncertainty. _

“I….did, my Lord. He would have been a few years older than your children.”

“When did you lose him?”

“He was nine.” Veers was staring very hard at the deck below.

_ Great pain there. But also, a longing to speak... _

“A great burden for you, General. I would like to hear of him if you are willing to tell me. Did he share your love for your steel herd?”

Veers barked something that wasn’t quite a laugh.

“Oh my Lord, not in the slightest. Despite my very best efforts, his favorite model toy was the X-Wing.”

Anakin looked at him. “Indeed?”

“I believe that I tried to give him fleets of TIE fighters for two different birthdays. He was very nice about it, but he wanted the damned X-wings. The son of a loyal Imperial, but he liked the enemy ships.”

Anakin chuckled. “Don’t feel too badly, Veers. My son  _ flew _ the enemy ships.”

The General smiled at him. “Is it still strange for you, my Lord, to see them here in the Lady’s hangar bay?”

_ Strange and weirdly wonderful. _

“Oh yes.”

“For me as well.”

“What did you do?” Anakin asked.

“Sir?”

“About his birthday.”

Veers sighed.

“I made him the X-Wings.”

Anakin was impressed. “You  _ made _ them?”

“I dabble with wood from time to time, my Lord.” 

_ That's right, he seemed to recall discussing that at some point. _

“Most impressive, General.” He watched Luke grin and chat to Artoo as the little droid burbled and whirred with him.

“Clearly, your son has a love of flying which he shares with you,” Veers observed. 

_ A longing in his General to have known what he and his son might have shared.  _

“Indeed,” Anakin answered. And he had lived most of his life believing his child dead. Believing there had only been one. To have discovered Luke lived, even if he was a Rebel upstart, was the catalyst for great change in the galaxy.

_ It was the catalyst for great change in his Father.  _

And with his General next to him, who had experienced having a son only to lose him, and was projecting those emotions strongly, Anakin was nearly overwhelmed with gratitude. 

Luke threw a salute at the two of them and moved out of the hangar bay to shower, no doubt. 

Anakin wished he was better with words. With empathy. Piett would have been better suited to this moment. But he was doing his job on the bridge, currently. He sighed internally. 

“I admire you, General.”

He felt Veers’ sudden surprise. 

“Thank you, my Lord, I….”

Anakin clarified. “You experienced great loss and chose to give yourself to a career which has you training and leading young men. Other men’s sons.”

Veers straightened and placed his hands behind his back-----a gesture that reminded Anakin strongly of Piett and he hid a smile.

“One could say that I buried myself in that to escape as well, my Lord.”

“One  _ could _ say that,” the former Sith agreed. “But you do not ‘bury’ yourself in it. You would not have the regard of your men if you did. They matter to you and they know it, your moniker aside.”

Veers clearly did not know what to say to this, so Anakin continued.

“I experienced great loss and chose to try and destroy as much as possible. I succeeded terribly well.”

Veers turned to look at him. 

“Your son spurred you to do a great deal of good, General. It took the discovery and courage of mine to  _ stop _ me from great evil.”

“He is indeed, a very courageous young man, “ Veers agreed. “I am most grateful we have him working with us. But I will always be most indebted to him for saving the Admiral’s life.”

_ Luke had saved Veers’ too on a different occasion. But it did not surprise Anakin that the General would not place that as his highest priority. _

“I am grateful we have  _ you _ working with us, General. Today, you brought back all of those sons. Including mine. Thank you.”

And Anakin held out his hand to Veers who took it. The General didn’t speak---he couldn’t, Anakin realized----but his eyes held his commander’s and his grip was firm.


	62. Daughters Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well naturally, there's a part two. :) 
> 
> And I have now given a name to the Chief Engineer-- a character I'm quite liking and would like to dedicate to ktulu1347 who gave me the idea to continue with said character. Thank you!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes place three weeks after Fidelity.

It had been a few months since he had done this particular round. When he was a captain, he had made it frequently. As an admiral, so much had changed, that he was not able to make the rounds as he used to. He had more responsibilities, more ships and more lives on his hands. And on his mind.

Sleep was still difficult for him many nights, but it was oddly enough, better than the days of chasing the Rebellion. It did, perhaps, help to work for a commander who would no longer throttle him for a misstep. 

Unfortunately, the events of three weeks previous, had his sleep issues roaring back into life, with nightmares and a restless mind between them, depriving him of needed rest. 

_ Veers hit by the firing squad and Piett discovered that he himself was giving the order, and it was too late to take it back… _

_ The princess, in front of him, but without her lightsaber---taking the shots that were meant for him…..dying in his arms…. _

_ His Lordship, angry at their failure, raising his lightsaber to execute them himself…. _

No, Piett did not desire to face those scenarios, even though his waking mind told him it was nonsense---they were all safe and unharmed, and on board the Lady. 

But his waking mind, aside from his day to day duties, was also troubled on behalf of his princess, who had been…... _ sad _ , for lack of a better word, ever since her Father had departed. He had carefully probed, one evening over cocoa, and she had mentioned that they had spoken of her mother.

_ “I’m glad that we did. And there will be more. But as I learn more about her, I find that it is harder to come to terms with the fact that I will never know her as he did.” _

_ A pause, and he wasn’t sure if he should say anything---he was so very out of his depth here. _

_ “Do you miss your mother, Admiral?” she asked, and fresh pain lanced his heart. _

_ She must have felt it--she became more attuned in the Force all the time---because she nestled closer to him. _

_ “I…..miss what she could have been,” he settled on. He had told her the basics of his earlier years---he was not sure if he was ready yet to give her the details. But she knew his mother had been ...distant, never close. _

_ She nodded. “Yes, exactly. I thought you would understand. It is the might have beens which are so very difficult at the moment. I don’t even have a picture of her.” _

_ He looked at her inquiringly. “Surely you could get one made…” _

_ “Sorry, that was confusing. Yes, there are many of her as the queen or the senator. But none that are just…..Padme’.” _

_ Yes, that made sense. Even he had images of his sisters and his mother. They were hidden in a drawer, true, because some things were just too painful, but he had them should he wish to see them. The girl beneath his arm did not. _

_ He wished he was better at this, and had all the right words. As he did not, he held her close and sipped cocoa with her as they watched the stars from the corner of the Alliance lounge.  _

So there was much that weighed on the Admiral as he found himself in the Lady’s cavernous engine room at an hour much too early or much too late, depending on your point of view.

He had intended to be as unobtrusive as possible, but a voice called to him from above, and he turned to see the ship’s Chief Engineer.

“Admiral Piett sir. Haven’t seen you here at this hour in some time.”

“Hello Baldwin, yes, well, I felt a visit was due.” He smiled to keep things light, but his Chief was a sharp man and he could feel himself being studied. 

“What are you working on at this hour? He asked, waving a hand to the hydrospanner in the engineer’s grasp.

“Ah, well our Lady is practically perfect, sir, but this line up here needs just a bit of tightening after our last engagement. As to the hour, I like the night shifts---typically less hectic--I can focus easier.”

“Well, I shall not get in the way of that then,” Piett responded, making to move away, but Baldwin stopped him.

“If it’s a little exercise you’re needing sir, I could use a hand. Let me get to the next thing a little more quickly.”

And the Chief was kind, but Piett wasn’t sure…. when it suddenly occurred to him that Baldwin had children, and he was reasonably certain one was a daughter.

“Very well Chief,” he said, ascending the ladder to join him. “As long as you think I’ll do a creditable enough job.”    
  


Baldwin chuckled. “You'll do, sir. It’s just a matter of tightening each of these fixtures by about 30 degrees. Time consuming but simple enough.”

“Even an Admiral can manage it, then?” Piett said, undoing his jacket and laying it over the railing, followed by his cap.

“ _ This _ Admiral, at least,” the Chief replied, handing him another hydrospanner. “I’ll do the ones above, you do the ones below.”

They worked in silence for a minute as Piett concentrated to make sure he was doing what he ought to.

“How’s your family, Baldwin?” he began, deciding to try and approach things broadly.

“Well sir, my wife is grand thank you. Apparently I will be coming home to a new house color on my next leave.”

Piett smiled slightly. “Where is home these days, Chief?”

“Still on Corellia, sir. Last 30 years.”

“And your children? You have two I believe?”

“Good memory, Admiral, yes, a boy and a girl.” He paused and snorted. “Of course, they’re not really that anymore---grown now, but you always think of them that way.”

“Mm. What do they do?”

“Well, my son, he works for a large company out of Ord Mantell---designs commercial ships. Loves it, but it’s quite busy. Still, my wife heads over to see him frequently---two grandkids you see.”

“You must be very proud,” Piett said, pushing the spanner a little harder on the stubborn fixture to make it move the full 30 degrees.

“Oh yes.” The Chief grinned. 

“And your daughter?” Piett asked, keeping his tone light and casual.

“Ah, she takes after her old man. She’s an engineer as well.”

Piett chuckled. “How old was she when she decided that?”

“About eight. Never wavered from it. And she knows her stuff.”

“Would she like a position on a starship? I might have  _ some _ pull. And we’re always looking for quality people.”

The Chief cocked an eyebrow at him. “Looking to replace me, Admiral?” 

Well  _ that _ was unthinkable. 

“Never, Baldwin. Lord Vader would have my head if I tried  _ that _ . Not that I ever would,” he added. 

Baldwin scoffed. “As if Lord Vader would replace you either, sir. But no, you couldn’t get her even if you tried. I’m afraid her love is more in line with General Veers. She works pretty exclusively with AT-ATs.”

Piett raised his eyebrows. “The General would owe me a thousand times over if I could get him a Baldwin for his Herd.”

The Chief laughed. “And while that is a noble intention, sir, I’m afraid she loves her job planetside. Allows her more freedom to see family and travel.”

“Ah, alas, it was worth trying.” Piett moved to the next bolt. “So did that make it…. _ easier _ to raise a daughter so similar to yourself?”

The Chief snorted. “Ah, Admiral, you would think so. But it actually caused more head to head confrontation. We always made up quickly though. We’re close. Talking engineering is a joy and a delight, I will say. And Kira always speaks her mind.”

Piett smiled to himself. 

“Well that does help. What did you do when she, ah  _ didn’t _ ?”

He could feel the Chief’s gaze on him and kept his attention fixed on his work.

_ Just making conversation. _

“Depended I suppose.”

“Well, what if you knew that something was…..oh, bothering her? How did you help her with that?”

“Well sir, with Kira, you had to let her open up with that. Direct approach wasn’t the best. If I knew what was bothering her, I’d make time for an opportunity where she could tell me naturally--working on a project, for example, or taking a walk.”

“Mmm. And if you-----didn’t know?”

“Well, then I would let her tell me if she wanted to. Didn’t ever want to be one of those pushy parents, I suppose.”

_ Yes, that was abhorrent to him as well. But…. _

“What if…..what if you knew she was sad?”

The Chief paused in his work and looked at Piett. 

“ _ That _ , sir, is a very difficult thing as a parent. Much as we’d like to, we can’t always fix things. Still,” he went back to the fixture and tightened it, “I would try. But sometimes she would tell me and sometimes not. I found that she either needed a distraction or her father. So I’d offer to take her to dinner or a show--take her mind off of whatever it was. Other times, if I knew, or had a pretty good idea, I’d show up at hers with my favorite ice cream and just be there.”

“ _ Your _ favorite?” Piett asked with a laugh.

Baldwin cocked an eyebrow at him. “Well sure. No pressure on her to eat it then. I’d start in and if she wanted to join me, she could.”

“Did that work?”

_ He felt his tone was casual and again, avoided any eye contact. _

“Not always, if you mean, did it make her less sad. But I was  _ there _ .”

_ He could do that.  _

“Looks like we got these finished, Baldwin,” Piett said, straightening. The Chief gave him a rag to wipe his hands as they strolled back down the walkway.

“Think you might go get some rest, sir?” Baldwin asked as Piett shrugged his jacket back on.

He sighed. “I’ll give it a try, Chief. Still have a lovely stack of data pads to go through.”

The Chief looked at him consideringly. “You had quite a bit put on your shoulders a couple years ago, sir. Did you ever stop to consider you’re one of the youngest Admirals the Imperial Navy’s had?”

_ No, no he hadn’t. If he’d stopped to think he might have been crushed under that. _

“Not really, Chief.” He put his cap on. “Thanks very much for letting me help. And for the conversation.”

He turned to go.

“Sir.”

Baldwin looked at him directly. “You’ve done a first rate job as an Admiral, sir.”   
  


_ And that meant a lot coming from the Chief. _

“Thank you.”

“And from what I’ve observed, speaking as a father, sir, you’re doing a first rate job there too.”

Piett looked at him sharply. The Chief held his gaze and smiled.

“Have a good night, sir.”

  
  


****

Piett pondered as he made his way back toward his quarters. And an idea hit him.

“Lady,” he said as he changed direction. “If Commander Skywalker’s astromech is on board, could you send it to my office?”

The lights blinked at him and he made his way to his office, instead of his quarters.

The astromech had belonged to  _ Anakin Skywalker. _ It had not had its memory wiped since….the Clone Wars? So it was just possible it had what he needed. 

He perused a few reports while he waited, and then looked up as a familiar whistle sounded.

“Ah, yes, hello. You are R2-D2 correct?”

A blert that sounded remarkably as though it was telling him  _ ‘obviously’ _ .

“I realize,” he began, feeling foolish as he rose and rounded the desk, “that you and I have not always, ahem, got on. However, I would like to make a request on behalf of her Highness. 

The holoprojector seemed fixed on him. 

_ Was it listening? _

“It is my understanding that you belonged to Anakin Skywalker at one time. And….”

_ This felt so very delicate, yet he was talking to a droid. _

“If I have the years correct, you must have known Padme’ Amidala---his wife as well.”

A great deal of whistling, burbling and trilling.

“I’m afraid I’m not sure what that means.”

A noise that sounded remarkably like a long suffering sigh.

“I wondered perhaps, if you might have an image that we could print on flimsi---for the princess. Something that you feel would best show her who her mother was--not the Queen or the Senator, but the woman.”

_ Was it nuanced enough to understand that? _

There was a pause, and Piett was reprimanding himself for being a fool, when the droid suddenly displayed two images and Piett nearly dropped his data pad.

The first was a happy couple on their wedding day. A couple that was  _ Anakin Skywalker  _ and Padme’ Amidala. Piett knew this didn’t exist anywhere else.

_ His commanding officer-- _ **_Darth Vader-_ ** _ \--so young. So happy. _

Piett’s world was shaken. He wasn’t sure he should be seeing this. 

“I’m sure that she would appreciate that, R2 unit. But…….but I rather think that if she is to receive that one, it should be from her Father.”

The second image though…..A shot of Padme’ Amidala dressed very simply and laughing into the desert sunlight. She was so young and  _ that… _ ...that was the one. He could see his princess in that one. 

“Can you send that to my printer?” he asked softly. The droid whirred and bumped him gently. 

_ Approval? _

His printer came to life and got to work. He checked the chronometer. It was  _ just _ late enough….0430....

He pulled out his comlink and got an answer after waiting for a minute.

“Firmus, I have my own alarm and according to it, I have another 30 minutes, damn it.”

“Sorry, Max, but I have a big favor to ask you….”

“And you think you’re likely to get it, waking me at this hour do you?”

Piett smiled to himself. “I do actually, yes.”

****

He waited for their next scheduled meeting a few days later, and found her in their spot in the lounge before him.

“Apologies your Highness, I….”

She smiled. “You’re not late, Admiral, I just…..well I needed to retreat for a little while. Regroup if you will.”

She was perched on the sofa already, holding a mug of tea this time and one was waiting for him. He set down the paper wrapped package on the table in exchange for his own mug, and removed his cap to sit next to her. 

“Anything tremendously terrible in today’s meetings then?” he asked, sipping the tea and appreciating the familiar flavor.

She shook her head. “Not terrible, no. Just….weighty. So much to decide….”

_ She wanted to tell him something---she had that air about her. _

He could give her time to work into it. “Yes, I can sympathize. Trying to divide and reassign the fleet is….challenging. A good challenge to have, and Venka will officially take on the Home Fleet, so that's decided at least.”

She nodded, watching the stars. “He will do a grand job. Mon will appreciate having him. More work for you though,” she said, glancing at him, knowingly.

He smiled ruefully. “For awhile at least, until I can train and reassign some officers.”

There was a pause. 

_ Go ahead, my dear. I am here no matter what. _

“Mon offered me the Assistant Head of State position,” she told him, taking a sip of her tea and watching him over the rim for his reaction.

_ He had expected that at some point. They would be fools not to. But clearly, she was conflicted. _

“I’m very honored of course, but…..” she stared into her mug. “I don’t want it. And I feel in some ways as though that is shirking my duty.” She looked up again at him. 

“Han said I should get your opinion.”

_ Well, thank you, General Solo. _

“Well. His regard is appreciated. I suppose my dear, I am curious to know what you would like to do instead?” He smiled at her. “You are hardly the type to sit back and do nothing.”

“Aren't we all” she replied with an answering smile. “I suppose, I…...well, I’ve had some time to reflect and to be honest, I would like to do what my mother did. Maintain her diplomatic role. Be on the front lines with the worlds we’d like to help.”

_ Yes, that suited his princess well.  _

“Do you need my opinion then? That sounds rather perfect indeed.”

She set her mug down to give him her full attention. “Well, you see Admiral, I would very much like to stay on the Executor. And yes, your opinion matters to me. I feel selfish though. This position would allow me to be near Han, and Luke, and…..and you.”

_ He didn’t think he would ever get tired of being included like that. _

“Are you not allowed to consider a position that would keep you closer to your family, princess? If you are fulfilling a vital diplomatic role, and it happens to be here on the Lady, what is wrong with that?”

She held his eyes, searching them earnestly. Then she sighed. “I….don’t know. I’ve been so used to accepting that what I want must be sacrificed to the cause….You’re right.”

_ So much on such young shoulders. _

“I am confident you will make the right decision, my dear,” he told her and she gave him a grateful look. Then she switched her attention to the package on the table.

“You have brought something, Admiral, is that for me?”

_ He hoped this was the right decision. _

“Yes,” he answered, picking it up and placing it in her lap. “I had some help.”

She undid the paper and turned over the polished wood frame.

And just stared.

“Admiral…..” she whispered, running fingers over the image.

“As I said, I had help. I may or may not owe a favor to that demon droid of your brother’s, and the General is very good with wood so the frame is from him, and I  _ definitely _ owe him a fav….oop.”

He was cut off as she set the picture gently on the table, and crushed her arms around his neck. He shifted to be able to hold her.

“Thank you,” she was muffled in his shoulder. “It’s perfect. I love it. And you.”

_ My dear girl, it’s very much reciprocated. _

She pulled back to kiss him heartily on the cheek, and then reached to pick up the picture again and just stare at it, tucked tightly against his side.

“I rather thought she looked like you in this,” he murmured, deeply happy at her pleasure.

“You are kind. She’s so young,” she smiled. “This frame is beautiful. General Veers  _ made _ it?”

“Max has a great deal of hidden depths, my dear.”

“I will be sure to thank him too.”

She drank it in, her eyes soft, and Piett was immeasurably grateful this was the right choice.

She looked up at him. 

“I’m quite happy to be like my mother.” 

“Then the Lady and I are always at your disposal,” he told her. 


	63. Bad Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What it says on the tin. Much as we wish it, the good guys don't always win.

Given the way of life, times like these were bound to happen. Whether it was due to random acts of nature or whether it was the cruelty of battle, there were really bad days.

It had been some time, Ellery reflected, since they had been on the receiving end of a day this bad, however. It was at times, easy to feel that they would always be victorious---oh certainly, a little bruised and battered, but in the end, the winner. 

This time however, they had not been ready for the freak asteroid shower, nor for the much larger nest of Black Sun operatives than they had been led to believe were there. And no Jedi assistance to be had on this mission---Commander Skywalker was aiding his Father with a classified mission, while her Highness was on diplomatic assignment several systems away.

The asteroids had caused serious damage to three of their Star Destroyers---including the Lady herself, and this in turn, led to the delay of the much needed assistance for their ground troops. But they didn’t know that during the battle.

_ “We have to retreat!” General Veers had ordered. “Where are my damn transports, Ellery?” he’d demanded over comms. _

_ “Sir, you’ll know as soon as I do!” he’d responded, and gone back to trying to hail the Executor. He couldn’t get a response and was trying not to let that worry him-----or the General, yet. _

_ Another fierce barrage from the enemy position and suddenly, Walker 3 had stopped.  _

_ “Twelve!” The General commanded, “Help to defend Three! All commanders, pull back to the AT-ATs.” _

_ He had barely finished speaking when a new blast of fire obliterated Three before their eyes, and Twelve, coming to help her sister, was damaged by the same attack.  _

_ A brief beat as the debris settled and then the smoking ruin fell to the rocky ground.  _

_ “Sir!” one of the commanders for the ground forces had reported to Veers, “We’re pinned down to your northwest, sir! Trying to get to you, but they’ve brought in speeders…...kriff…” _

_ “Sergeant Major! I need some air support!!” _

_ “General, I…..” was as far as Ellery got before they all watched a massive fireball go up from the northwest. _

_ “Commander!” Veers had demanded and been met with nothing but static. “Force  _ **_damn_ ** _ it!” _

_ Ellery had watched as their troopers began running back for the giant AT-ATs, withering fire chasing at their heels.  _

_ “Cover their retreat!” Veers ordered. He then whipped around and muted his com to spear Ellery with his battle gaze. _

_ “Does Admiral Piett have any thoughts to share with me yet, Sergeant?” he snapped and Ellery hated having to tell him….. _

_ “Sir, I have not been able to raise the Executor in my last seven hails. I’m still trying of course, sir.” _

_ Veers had stared for one beat and if Ellery didn’t know him well, he wouldn’t have seen it. But since he knew the General now, he saw the tell as Veers held his breath slightly and then let it out silently.  _

_ “Problem with our comms, Sergeant?” he’d asked, clearly hoping it was. _

_ “No, sir,” he’d had to reply, “I can raise our ground forces and I got the Captain of the Marauder, but he is also, I’m sorry sir, not able to communicate with Executor at the moment.” _

_ “Kriffing  _ **_hell_ ** _ ,” under the General’s breath. _

_ “General!” came a new voice over comms, “I can see the transports approaching sir!!” _

_ And then they had made their retreat, discovering from the pilots of the transports that massive asteroids had come hurtling through their forces above the planet, one of them hitting the Lady’s command tower directly. Her shields had held-----just----but the damage had been extensive, blowing most of the power in that section in order to maintain shields. The force had also damaged the anchoring at the base of the tower. _

_ One of the pilots, upon intense questioning from the General, was able to inform them that they had been ordered to come and retrieve their forces by the Admiral himself, using personal comms, but that was all he knew.  _

_ Veers had nodded terseley, and gone to retrieve final reports and damages from his commanders. He had then checked on the wounded, and made the rounds of his troops, encouraging and comforting with his presence.  _

_ As they approached the Lady, they could see the external engineering crews swarming the base of the tower, working on securing it once again. It was strange to see the tower so dark, only emergency lighting glowing dimly. _

The bay was now starting to clear, after the several frantic hours since they landed. Ellery wiped his hand over his face to remove sweat, and looked around. 

Oil, damaged parts, dirt, and discarded armor lay all around. And blood. Hard to distinguish from the oil but various pools caught the light, and glowed the telltale crimson. 

Those who could be helped were now in sickbay——those who couldn’t were in the morgue. 

And there was one General, who no longer had the strength to stand, and was on his knees beneath one of the walkers, almost hidden in its shadow. 

Ellery watched his bowed head a moment, and lifted his comm. 

“Kelly?”

“Yes. Are you all right, Sergeant….?”

“Fine, Captain. We could use him though, if he’s able.”

A long suffering sigh. “He’s really not, but as he’s already down at the tower base, checking with the Chief, I’ll comm him. Thanks, Ellery.”

“And you,Captain.”

And ten minutes later, just as the sergeant was getting ready to go look for him, the slight form of his Admiral came hurrying into the bay. 

He paused, looking around and caught Ellery’s eye. He nodded toward the walker, and Piett squared himself before moving more slowly toward the bowed form. 

The Admiral himself had been through the wringer, the sergeant noted with some exasperation—-one arm was in a sling, and he was moving with a small limp. Clearly Ellery needed to hear how things had gone on the Lady. 

He watched long enough to see Piett lay a hand on the General's shoulder, before stiffly lowering himself to the deck beside his friend. 

Ellery moved discreetly to the entrance of the landing bay. 

****

Given the way of life, times like these were bound to happen. Whether it was due to random acts of nature or whether it was the cruelty of battle, there were really bad days.

This particular random act of nature had caused over 500 hundred casualties amongst three ships, and about fifty fatalities. There was nothing that anyone could have done---the scanners had picked up the huge asteroids hurtling toward them only seconds before they impacted. Perhaps some minor black hole had opened? No one knew, and no one was pondering that at the moment--too occupied with the aftermath.

It had been some time, Kelly reflected, since he had seen the Admiral look quite this strained, and it suddenly occurred to him that the last time they had dealt with asteroids like this, both of them had been  _ newly _ promoted.

_ “Report!” came the Admiral’s voice from a considerable distance away, and Kelly had lifted a ringing head, to realize that he and Piett were on opposite sides of the bridge. _ __   
  


_ Hadn’t they been standing near each other moments before?  _

_ Right. Asteroids. _

_ He had staggered to his feet, clutching at the bulkhead and looked around. The emergency lighting was on, and in the dimmer illumination he squinted to see down in the Pit. _

_ “Status!” he had barked. _

_ “Sir, our communications are knocked out completely,” came a voice from comms. _

_ “Shields held sir,” said another voice by the defense station. “It’s why we’re all here.” _

_ “Get the medics up here!” Piett had called, finally making it to his feet, though Kelly had noticed he clutched the console nearest to him as though he would fall if he didn’t. _

_ Which....  _

_ Likely possibility, knowing the Admiral. But Kelly had also seen still forms on the deck around him, and heard groaning coming from the Pit. _

_ “Sir, without comms…..” _

_ “Right, sorry,” Piett had said, and reached for his personal comlink only to stop suddenly and swear----not usual when on the bridge. _

_ “Admiral?” Kelly had called, moving closer, and he realized that Piett’s arm was at a very odd angle…...kriff, that was a horrific dislocation. _

_ “Just…...give me….a second,” Piett had panted, and then reached with his other arm for his comlink and leaned heavily against the console. _

_ Kelly had waited to see that he was giving orders to the medics, and he worked to help move the wounded out onto the deck and give what first aid they had available.  _

_ He had looked up as Piett had barked orders to the transport ships to get down planetside, and that was the first time it had occurred to him that there were further consequences to the situation, particularly with comms out.  _

_ Kelly closed the eyes of a young ensign---broken neck, he had died immediately--- and then moved to the Admiral once more. _

_ “Sir,” he had murmured, “sit down.” _

_ “Captain,” Piett had responded, and yes that was a large bruise on his forehead, not just the lighting, “this isn’t the time. Besides, have you seen yourself? Are you all right, Kelly?” _

_ And that had been when he realized that the strange itch on the side of his face was drying blood from a rather impressive head wound. He had run his fingers over it, which was not pleasant, but was glad to discover it was not serious. Comparatively.  _

_ “I’m all right, sir,” he’d responded, “but with both an arm and a leg out of commission, you’ll hit the deck again, sir. Please sit so you don’t become a worse casualty than you already are.” _

_ Piett had raised an eyebrow, but stunningly, had listened and seated himself at the weapons console. _

_ He and Kelly between them communicated with various parts of their ship until at last, medics had arrived on the bridge. _

_ Piett had tried to insist he wasn’t among the worst, but Kelly had been willing to endure his Admiral’s glare when he pointed out the arm to the medic. _

_ “Admiral….” the medic trailed off uncertainly.  _

_ “I know what it entails,” Piett had sighed. “Get it over with.” _

Kelly thus found himself helping his commanding officer to lie down on the deck while the medic grasped his arm. 

“Kelly,” Piett said, clearly already containing the pain, “You’re going to have to hold me down as the ah, pulling, is rather hard and he needs the resistance for this to work.”

“Yes, sir,” Kelly said.  _ Kriff the man was so calm.  _

“All right,” the medic told him, then to Piett, “hold fast, Admiral.”

Kelly hated the whole thing. It was not a snap and done---it took two agonizing minutes, and Piett couldn’t contain a small gasp halfway through. At last with a horrible pop, his shoulder went back in.

The medic manipulated his knee slightly as well, before wrapping it tightly, and then allowed him to sit with Kelly’s help.

“Captain,” Kelly’s comm crackled, and he rose to answer while the medic and Piett had a small argument about the merits of a sling. 

“Sir,” it was the Chief, “I’m looking at the tower base sir. We’re starting the external repairs but this internal section is tricky. I might need another day before I’m comfortable leaving orbit.”

“I’ll go,” said Piett, reaching his feet, but having lost the sling argument.

“Admiral…” the medic tried.

“Captain,” Piett continued, turning to Kelly and waving the medic to other wounded. “I need you to get our ground forces back on board, and prioritize fixing the comms. I’ll be with the Chief.”

_ And those hazel eyes were not to be argued with. _

“Aye sir,” replied Kelly, sighing internally while a medic came to him to clean the head wound.

And thank the  _ Force _ , the transports were docking and he had an engineer working on the comms station…..

His comlink buzzed and he flicked it on.

“Kelly?”

_ Ellery. Unusual for him to comm him like this _ .

“Yes. Are you all right, Sergeant….?”

“Fine, Captain. We could use him though, if he’s able.”

_ Which could only mean something with Veers. Son of a Hutt. _

“He’s really not, but as he’s already down at the tower base, checking with the Chief, I’ll comm him. Thanks, Ellery.”

“And you, Captain.”

_ He hated his job sometimes. But his Admiral needed to know, would  _ **_want_ ** _ to know, and his injuries weren’t life threatening so….. _

“Admiral? You’re needed in landing bay 12, sir.”

*****

Kelly met Ellery as he was exiting the bay, and glanced over the big man’s shoulder. He could just see two forms underneath one of the walkers.

“Sergeant,” he began softly, and Ellery pulled him out into the corridor and a more secluded position, where they could still see their superior officers but not be observed themselves.

“What the  _ he _ \--that is, what happened up here, Captain? I heard rumors---something about  _ asteroids… _ .?”

“It’s true,” Kelly said and Ellery raised his eyebrows, noticing the Captain’s head wound.

“How bad up here then, sir?” the Sergeant asked, and Kelly could see him preparing himself.

“We lost 53. Over 500 casualties,” he told him. “And I know what happened dirt side. I’m so sorry. Is the General hit? Because we should really….”

“No sir,” Ellery interrupted, “he’d prefer it if he were I think. It….it was pretty messy sir. He hates being surprised like that----feels that he should have known.”

_ Yes, Kelly knew someone like that... _

“Sir, the Admiral.....I wouldn’t have commed if I’d known about-----”

He gestured back at the area where Piett was sitting near his friend.

Kelly gave him a look. “And he would have reamed both of us out for not doing so. I promise Sergeant, I would have had Henley weigh in if I thought it was that urgent. Dislocated shoulder and slightly twisted knee. Both put back and, given Henley’s dictates to his medics, I’m confident he’ll track the Admiral down soon. Give them this time---this was bad.”

Ellery nodded. He was aware that Veers was still in a uniform covered in blood and grime from his attempts to help as many of his men as possible. 

Both of them turned in time to see Piett reach up and pull the General’s head down to his shoulder.

_ Very bad then. _

“Find reasons to be busy around here, Sergeant,” Kelly said quietly. “I’ll be on the bridge if you need me.”

“Yes sir,” Ellery replied and the Captain moved off. The Sergeant positioned himself where he could effectively guard the bay. 

Even Generals and Admirals needed time to grieve.


	64. The things we do for love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One of you delightful people suggested that Han and Vader have to work together on a ship. I apologize for not recalling who it was, but to you, I give all the credit for this idea!
> 
> And of course, poor Piett got stuck in the middle of it....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can I just say, in case it hasn't been abundantly clear, how much I adore Piett and his longsuffering as the frequent middle man?

He shouldn’t have come. He should have grown a spine and said,  _ NO _ . Let them murder each other. 

Well. There was no question who would have murdered whom. Still. Beside the point.

He. Should. Not. Have. Come.

But her large brown eyes had never been something he could resist---well _almost_ never-- he  _ had _ managed it a few times, Veers. So.

_ “Please would you, Admiral? You’re the only other one I can think of besides myself who could possibly prevent a disaster between them.” _

_ Veers was studiously not looking at him, and attacking his breakfast sausage with gusto. _

_ “My Father is trying to do a favor here, Admiral, in getting Han back to the Falcon. I would absolutely go myself, but Mon is very clear that I need to take point on this mission.” _

_ He took a sip of caf----it was one of those mornings----and looked at her. _

_ “My dear girl, perhaps they would appreciate this time to…..” _

_ “Bond?” put in Veers innocently, raising his eyebrows. _

_ Piett shot him a look. _

_ The princess snorted. “I am under no illusions that they will ever do that. But I can at least keep them from murdering each other. Or you could, dear Admiral. I do understand if things are too busy on the Lady….” _

_ The thing was though, that all was moving fairly smoothly on board. He actually could take the time. He had to be honest. It was just….. _

_“You realize that you are asking me to fly with your_ ** _Father_** _and your smuggler, in your Father’s ship and then return in the_ ** _Millenium_** **_Falcon_** _, your Highness?”_

_ She pressed her lips together and raised guilty eyebrows while Veers couldn’t help the snort laugh into his caf. Piett hoped he got it on his uniform. _

_ “I do know, Admiral. I realize I am asking a great deal of you…” _

_ She laid a hand on his arm and he was defeated.  _

_ Damn you and your smirking eyes, General. _

_ “Very well my dear. Just know that I might have to retire after this.”  _

_ She patted his arm and rose. “You won’t. But I promise to find a way to make it up to you.” _

  
  


And thus it was that Piett found himself stuck on this backwater rock listening to the two most insane space jockeys in the galaxy argue over how to fix a ship, while he leaned against a boulder and hoped that a freak asteroid might hit them all.

“Solo, as I recall, your ship breaks down every other voyage. I would hardly say that makes her superior to this freighter.”

Solo was either very brave or very stupid, and Piett found himself veering between the two whenever the Corellian was talking to Lord Vader. 

“Listen your Sithness…”

“Ex….” Piett murmured, crossing his ankles and folding his arms as he leaned. 

“Whatever,” the smuggler intoned, glaring at the Admiral, “the Falcon puts her all into every voyage she takes. If that means I have to give her more love and attention, I’m all right with that. And no one has ever told me that  _ you _ made .5 lightspeed in this garbage heap.”

His Lordship popped out from under his craft, wagging a wrench at Solo and face smudged already with oil.

“Don’t make me laugh in the middle of repairs, Solo. .5 is for children. If  _ I _ had modified your glorified dinner plate, she would no doubt have made twice that.”

“So why haven’t you modified…..what did you say this was again? Something the Ithorians made?”

Piett winced. The slow moving species were not known for any prowess in making star ships. 

A growl and a bang from under the ship.

“I don’t feel the need to modify absolutely  _ every _ ship I fly to be as fast as possible,” came from under the ship.

_ Of all the brazen lies his commander could ever tell…..! _

Piett had a fit of coughing and his lordship made his appearance again.

_ Oh kriff, I didn’t say it out loud…. _

“Admiral. Did you have something to add to the discussion?”

“No, my Lord.”

His commanding officer regarded him with hard eyes for a moment. 

“You seem bored, Piett. This would go faster with another set of hands. Take off your jacket.”

_ Oh for the love of the galaxies. _

“I’m right  _ here _ !” Solo said indignantly as Piett slowly unlatched his jacket. “I  _ said _ at the beginning, that I could help you with this! No offense, Admiral, but I think I would have the better skill set….”

“None taken,” replied Piett mildly, setting his jacket and cap on the boulder. “And General Solo is correct, my Lord, his abilities here…..”

“If I wanted someone who questioned my orders, I would indeed have asked him in the first place,  _ Admiral _ . Spanner. Now.”

Piett raised his eyes to the pale purple sky above them, and went hunting for the spanner under the ship. He slipped in a puddle of coolant, getting a smear of reddish mud all down the side of his trousers. 

“Sith-----” he caught himself just in time. Lord Vader was staring right at him, and he heard the cursed Solo snickering nearby. “Sith are much more skilled at this than I am,” he finished lamely, finding the spanner and handing it to his lordship.

He was made to wait longer than necessary. “Indeed they are,” intoned the former Dark lord smoothly, finally plucking it from his hand. 

Solo sighed out of sight. “The fact remains,” he said, “the Falcon has outrun you every time, even in your TIE advanced, and you just can’t bear to admit that she is faster than anything you’ve ever flown, your Darkness. That’s due to  _ my _ adjustments.”

The Force expanded out from his commander, and Piett was actually shoved back several feet--more mud---with the power of his rage as Lord Vader exploded out from under the ship. 

_ He loved his princess, but there was nothing she could give him that was worth this. _

“All of those instances have been flukes and there was only one time I was in the TIE while you were in the Falcon.”

“Yes, when I  _ shot _ you.”

_ Oh Force. This  _ **_could_ ** _ end in death. _

Piett scrambled out from under the freighter. 

His commander and Solo were almost nose to nose, both red with wrath.

“Does it really matter which ship is faster?” Piett asked. “Because unless we get off this barren rock…”

Both heads swung to him in unison with fierce rage.

_ Right. Insane space jockeys. _

“It. Matters.” Lord Vader clipped out.

“Admiral,” Solo said incredulously, “have you never wanted to open the Lady up and see what she can really do? I mean imagine a Super Star Destroyer at .5 lightspeed.”

Piett drew himself up, and covered in mud or no, he was the Fleet Admiral, damn it, no reckless Corellian….

“I have imagined it,” said his lordship thoughtfully.

Metaphorically, Piett was just kicked in the stomach. Because,  _ no _ .

“Have you?” said Solo, interested. “I imagine she has all sorts of safety protocols though.”

“Of course,” intoned Lord Vader, “she is an Imperial Star ship, not some cobbled together piece of bantha poodu. The fact remains however, that those protocols could be overridden…”

“My Lord…” Piett wondered if this was what throttling felt like.

“Well, yeah. And the shielding would need to be adjusted so it didn’t cause any drag…”

Piett listened in growing horror. 

“My Lord, at the, ahem, at the moment, we have no way of getting to either the Lady or the Millenium Falcon.”

His commander’s gaze appraised him. “True, Admiral. Solo, go and repair that coolant hose that the Admiral decided to mix with mud.”

And the Corellian picked up Piett’s abandoned spanner to go and work on the aforementioned hose.

Well. There were miracles in the galaxy.

_ Was this Lord Vader’s way of showing at least marginal approval? It certainly didn’t seem to be slowing down the arguing. _

"If we adjusted this coupling here, I would imagine that you wouldn't have this particular problem."

"Remind me again, whose ship broke down out by Ord Mantell, which would be why we're on this trip in the first place, _Solo_?"

“I’m just sayin’ if you rerouted these circuits here directly into the coil, she would really hop.”

“Solo, it would also cause routine blowback every other ‘hop’ as you say.  _ You _ may enjoy repairing your ship constantly, but I have other duties to attend to.”

Piett wondered if he could sprain his eyes from rolling them. 

“I’ve been meaning to mention, my Lord, that the chief in your private hangar bay is wondering what you would like him to do with all the parts you took out of your TIE advanced, while we’re on the topic.”

A hand, covered in grime and holding a small blowtorch, appeared from under the ship to gesture at him with unerring direction. 

“It is not in your job description to be  _ clever _ , Admiral, and I’ll thank you to remember that. Your only purpose here is to hand the real mechanics the tools we request.”

_ Oh it **was** , was it? Solo had gone from despised enemy to ‘real mechanic’? Force. _

“And on that note….”

Piett’s comlink sounded.

“I’m so terribly sorry, my Lord, one moment...”

“ _ Admiral… _ ”

Piett moved away from the ship and flicked it on.

“How go the repairs, Admiral?”

“Veers, I swear on the Lady, if you keep up with that cheerful tone…”

And his friend laughed on the other end. “I’m sorry, Firmus, I am…”

“You’re not.”

“Well, as I can picture your face at the moment, you’re right. But more to the point, Dauntless is standing by to come and get you. Shall I give the word?”

And Piett desperately wanted to say a fervent  _ yes _ .

Under the ship he could hear them still going at it---

_ “Solo, I would not be caught dead with a SLAM overdrive....” _

_ “You nearly were, so maybe you  _ **_should_ ** _ consider that.” _

“Firmus?”

Piett sighed and pinched his nose. 

“They nearly have it, Veers, I think we’ll be able to manage without rerouting an entire Star Destroyer.”

A pause. 

“ _ They _ ?”

“I am currently covered in mud and coolant, but the quote, real mechanics, end quote are fixing the ship together. They refuse on principal to agree on anything and I am indeed going to  _ retire _ after this, but….”

“If that girl does not realize how lucky she is to have someone like you love her, I will help her see it, Firmus.”

He thought of a planet exploding outward, and a motherless daughter. He recalled a brutal childhood and the longing for family. And he thought of hot cocoa and shared laughter and a loving hand on his arm.

“It’s all right, Max,” he said. “I’d do much more than this for her sake.”

“...well of course you drifted out with the garbage—- the Falcon is indistinguishable….”

He sighed. 

“Hopefully not often of course.”


	65. Allies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The top brass of the Alliance ponder the Imperials they're working with.
> 
> This was a prompt from Queeniegirl276 and a good one for me. You all know I lean toward writing our lovely Imperials so I've never popped into the heads of Mon Mothma, Madine or Ackbar. Thank you for the challenge! :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes place in Chapter 3 of Fidelity.

They filed into the Alliance lounge on the Executor and several server bots zipped up with waters and caf. Madine took a caf and went to place himself in the corner of one of the comfortable sofas. Ackbar accepted a water and moved to gaze out of the viewport, lost in his thoughts.

Mon Mothma also took a water and moved to stand near the Nabooan willows. It was only a few minutes of waiting before their Imperial hosts joined them, Piett entering first, Veers at his shoulder and Venka trailing behind, reading something on his datapad. 

The Admiral greeted each of them courteously, though he merely got a grunt from Madine, which had him raising his eyebrows at the General, who shook his head slightly.

Venka gave the room a nod in general and hunted out a caf from the server bots.

And then it was a matter of waiting for the Skywalkers.

  
  


**ACKBAR**

This was quite the kettle of moltofish indeed. All of them understood that this wasn’t some straightforward rescue mission. He was sure Piett understood that he could not ask the Rebel portion of this fleet to wholeheartedly endorse saving Darth Vader. 

But he was also sure the Imperial Admiral had a plan. He studied the slight human as he stood near the steel General Veers, quietly discussing things. 

When Piett had been given command of Death Squadron during Hoth, Ackbar had demanded a thorough report on the man. To that point, all he knew was that he was the Executor’s Captain. A prestigious position to be sure, but a captain still, among many. 

Lord Vader then jumped the man five ranks (it was reported Ozzel had not died from battle injuries but at Lord Vader’s hand himself. Ackbar was inclined to believe it.) to Admiral of Death Squadron. Naturally, Ackbar was very interested in the sort of enemy he was facing.

He recalled first looking at the file. Piett was not at all what he had expected, from his appearance to his origins. Was he merely a tool in Vader’s hand? 

Subsequent encounters had proven otherwise, and his sheer nerve at Endor had won Ackbar’s respect---placing Executor between the Imperial Fleet and the Alliance had put them in considerable danger. 

He had met him in person two days later. Piett had been quiet and rather pale, but Ackbar had been informed the Admiral had only been newly released from sickbay, after serious injury, so he put it down to that. 

And then…..without raising his voice, he had calmed an escalating situation and offered tea in those mild, cultured tones. 

Oh yes, this was a human to pay attention to. He would hear what Piett had to say on the matter before them. And he prepared to be the neutral zone between the Admiral and Madine, who already had a disagreeable look on his face. 

Veers was more what one would expect in an Imperial officer. Tall, cold and commanding---every inch the General who had decimated them at Hoth, nearly at the cost of his own life, Ackbar had found out later. 

Since that time, he had worked with the General numerous times, though never closely. Still, Ackbar’s species was very good at observation---

_ Note the size of their eyes, _ he thought to himself with some amusement---

\---and there were indeed carefully hidden depths in Veers. Brilliant strategist, certainly. Foremost expert on AT-AT warfare, no question. But…..

The man had been married and had a son. He was clearly the very close friend of the Admiral---an interesting friendship to be sure, not only because of the army/navy divide, but also as their personalities were quite different. 

And the Skywalker twins seemed to both like him a great deal. Ackbar trusted them implicitly and found that the most interesting of all. 

For someone who was supposedly so ruthless and vicious, he was scrupulous in the care of his men and his equipment. As they continued to merge the fleets, a few former rebels had joined the Herd and reported a very different story from what propaganda had shared. It was true that more of the former rebel troops preferred to take posts with the navy or the TIE divisions, but Ackbar knew now that Veers would give everything for his men. And his Admiral. 

Ackbar appreciated such loyalty. 

  
  


**MADINE**

_ For once, could they not have one of these meetings on Home One? _ Madine thought to himself, sipping on caf that had the audacity to be better than anything the Alliance had served over the years.

I mean, yes, the caf was better, but did it not bother anyone else to be surrounded by all this Imperial grey and black?

And he was kriffing tired of everyone going on about the generosity of the Imperials to give them this lounge, blah, blah, and to take the brunt of many of the battles they found themselves in, etc. 

He was so tired of the superior looks and airs they all put on and, swear on the  _ Force _ , if Veers gave him that eyebrow one more time he was going to punch it off. Probably.

He really couldn’t stand Piett the most, from his “Welcome aboard, General,” in those arrogant tones, to the way that absolutely everyone just fawned over the man. Even the  _ princess _ , for kriff’s sake, seemed to think he was her personal military advisor. She had had  _ him _ over years, and he was still here wasn’t he? Surely, he had earned far more trust than that puny little Imperial.

He didn’t trust him at all. Shifty looking even now. Would no doubt go charging off to save Darth Vader--of course, because the man couldn’t sneeze without Piett paying attention.

And of course, he was staying close to Veers. Likely felt safer next to the big lummox. Needed him for protection. Veers was definitely the sort who would have been a bully in school. He would have been in all the sports, sure, and all the girls would have loved him, and he would have lorded it over everyone else.

He’d heard numerous female crewmembers on Home One discuss the General’s many merits. Ha. Well, they didn’t know the man like he did. And, he noted, the General never socialized with female crew members. Probably once he opened his mouth they realized he had nothing worth saying. 

Ackbar had said something about Veers having a wife once. She’d probably moved on to greener pastures--smart woman. 

He noted that Venka was trying to be as unobtrusive as possible. Such a little hanger on. Thought that Piett had created the Imperial Navy personally no doubt. And had come in glued to his data pad--so rude.

He huffed into his caf, and was further irritated when some of it splashed onto his uniform. If the Imperials could use _deeper_ _mugs_ , kriff. 

The Skywalkers were here. Of course, the Princess Organa looked immediately to that little weasel for answers. He had the almighty nerve to look  _ fond _ of her! Well, given that this was an Imperial caused problem, he would take point on this, thank you very much,  _ Piett. _

  
  


**MON MOTHMA**

This news would be so very distressing to the princess and her brother, she thought, sipping the water and looking around the lounge. She was reminded again how much she appreciated the generosity of their Imperial allies. Piett had gone out of his way to help accommodate them from the beginning, in an effort to help foster unity in the fleet.

He might have made an excellent diplomat, but he was clearly invaluable as a military leader, and given them solid counsel on many things. She was grateful for this friendship between Leia and the Admiral---many issues had been solved or smoothed out due to their weekly meetings. 

She watched him now as he moved to discuss something with the Rear-Admiral. Madine was glowering at him, because of course he was. She sighed internally. The man had been useful during the war effort as one of their few experienced military advisors, but his ego was a rather large problem. And the day that the porg-Madine meeting had happened…...even now she had to control her trembling lips.

Piett certainly didn’t posture. He was one of those men who just…..commanded. He walked into a room, and people felt more at ease. However, he was also very good at not being noticed if he didn’t want to be. She wondered how much of that was natural and how much he had honed serving directly below Darth Vader.

She moved her gaze and caught Veers’ cool stare. He gave her a little nod, and then moved to join his friend with the Rear-Admiral. She had struggled with the General.

Like many in the Alliance fleet, she had viewed him as vicious and cruel after their crushing defeat at Echo Base. She had talked to the wounded and seen the devastation. When she had first laid eyes on him in person at that initial meeting after Endor, she had felt physically ill. But she was a diplomat and, further, the leader of the Rebellion, so she had steeled herself and studied her erstwhile enemy.

What she discovered started her down the road of questioning their own propaganda. He had practically  _ hovered _ over the Admiral, who did admittedly look rather too white that first meeting. He was very quick to jump to Piett’s defense while the shorter man had calmly looked Leia in the eye, smiled in understanding, and suggested tea.

That had been her first clue as to how the man had both been chosen and  _ survived _ being Vader’s admiral. 

But the General….Iron indeed. Ready in a moment to interpose himself between danger and his friend. And there was no doubt even in the beginning, that they were close friends.

Because Mon Mothma had quickly come to respect Piett, she was far more open to seeing more to the General. And over the last two years, she had found a great deal more to the man. 

He cared about his men deeply. He was always the first to lead a mission and the last to set foot back on the ship. He liked to observe in meetings before saying anything. Madine could admittedly push his buttons--which he usually did by going after Piett---but as a rule, Veers listened before he acted. She had realized, after uncountable meetings, that he always very subtly placed himself between Piett, and what could be the most likely direction of possible threat.

In a very strange way, she was reminded of Commander Skywalker and General Solo, though there were very obvious personality differences. 

The first time Veers had given a genuine smile, she saw what Piett and Leia no doubt saw---the man beneath the armor. And she started to like him, not just appreciate him. 

_Who in the galaxy would have put this motley group together?_ she thought to herself. _Who could have seen them gaining the upper hand because of_ ** _Darth_** **_Vader_** _and his loyal Death Squadron?_

And here they were--faced with another key decision, surrounding Anakin Skywalker. 

She wasn’t sure what the answer was, but looking at the set of Piett's shoulders, she had a feeling that he might.

  
  
  
  



	66. The meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You know when you have the worst cold ever, but you still have to go to work and sit in very long meetings?
> 
> Yep. Piett, Veers, Leia, Luke and Han all cope with that.

The first day of the meeting on Bothawui had been hard enough. The second day was punishing, and all the speakers had started to blend into one long drone as far as Veers was concerned. The third day though---the third day was likely a foretaste of hell.

The Executor had brought all the top officials of the New Republic out to Bothawui for a giant meeting of representatives to discuss trade. Yes, it was important, and yes, with all these systems figuring out life after the Empire, it was complicated and necessary, but did the military representatives  _ have _ to be there?

When he had voiced this in the Admiral’s conference room, Madine had sniffed and raised a superior eyebrow.

_ “If it’s too taxing for you, General Veers, I’m more than capable of representing us both.” _

_ Piett had coughed and reached for his water, not daring to meet his eyes. _

_ “Oh, thank you, General, but I wouldn’t want you representing me----that’s a  _ **_lot_ ** _ to put on your shoulders.” _

_ He was aware of his tone and was receiving a rather disapproving look from Mon Mothma. _

_ “We need you there as the people who allow trade to proceed through the galaxy peacefully,” she had chided gently.  _

_ Piett had sighed lightly, placing a hand to his forehead. _

And that should have been the first sign, Veers thought now. Instead, here they all were stuck in this meeting designed by demons, or at least by Fey'lya, and all of them had the worst cold since the thing they got from Dathomir.

He glanced around at their group. The princess was doing her best to look interested and alert, and certainly, compared to the rest of them, she looked positively brimming with health even if she wasn’t. She kept having to blow her nose however, and this was clearly irritating the Bothan senator, who was speaking at the moment.

_ So there were a few upsides to this thing then. _

Solo had that glazed look, which he often had when politicians were speaking, but this was the second time his head had slid and then jerked off of his hand.

Skywalker, like his sister, was trying to project his calm interest, but kept clearing his throat. It was starting to wear on Veers, who was tempted to just toss the water pitcher at him as a hint.

Piett, next to him, had that slight squint he got when his headaches were ratcheting up the intensity and if he wasn’t careful, this was going to be a migraine, Veers could tell. His friend also had tissues at hand. Between the Admiral and the princess, Fey’lya was clearly getting thrown off his game, and it was the only thing keeping Veers amused and sane at the moment. 

He himself was fighting a fever, and a sore throat, though he had the good sense to be sipping water ( _ Skywalker!) _

At last, _ at last, _ a recess was called for the day, and all of them made their way---

\---with dignity, they weren’t retreating swiftly---

\---to the shuttle from the Lady. 

“I hate to say this,” the princess started tentatively, “but we should debrief about some of this before tomorrow when decisions need to be made.”

“All right,” said Skywalker quietly, because he was a Jedi, and therefore could be pleasant about it. He could likely be pleasant while being sat on by a mudhorn, so that didn’t really give him any points over the rest of them.

Solo groaned openly. “Do I need to be there for that?”

“Han!”

“I meant, of course, your Worshipfulness, that I’m always there to support you.” 

Veers had sighed. “Very well, your highness.”

Piett had been uncharacteristically silent in the seat by the General, and he looked down at his friend. He was pasty white and had his eyes closed.

_ Damn it. Migraine. _

“Firmus?” he nudged him gently. “If you need sickbay….”

Those magic words had immediate effect, and Piett opened one eye.

“No,” he managed. “I….can do a meeting.”

Solo snorted across from them. 

“Admiral dear,” the princess began gently, “you look quite unwell…..”

“Yeah, dead banthas look better,” Solo contributed.

“Really Solo?” Veers said. Corellians, honestly. The man shrugged at him even as the princess gave him a glare.

“Meet in the Alliance lounge,” Piett managed, “then we can all spread out to die….sorry, discuss things there.”

Veers chuckled. Piett with a migraine was usually a small ball of misery, but one out of ten saw him also become  _ snarky, _ and Veers was guilty of secretly enjoying that. Of course he didn’t like his friend suffering, but…..

“All right,” the princess agreed, and blew her nose. 

  
  


*****

Accordingly, when Veers entered the more secluded corner of the lounge that had unofficially been dubbed the princess’s, he did indeed find everyone spread out in most undignified fashion.

Skywalker had claimed a large chair and was draped horizontally across it, lightsaber on the table near him and an arm over his eyes.

Piett was sans duty jacket, though he had maintained his boots, and sunk into another chair across from the Jedi, his feet resting on one of the low tables in front of him. Veers s could smell the spiced tea he was drinking, and was in time to see the princess handing him pills for the migraine. 

She was one of maybe two people (even Veers couldn’t always succeed) who could get Piett to submit to being taken care of willingly. He was glad she had hunted out the migraine medication.

Solo had claimed an entire sofa, and when Veers entered, raised a bottle of brandy in his direction.

“Cold meds, Veers?” he asked.

Sometimes the smuggler could be useful.

“That sounds about right,” he responded.

“This is a meeting technically…..” Skywalker began.

“Skywalker, keep meditating or whatever it is Jedi do for colds from the nine hells,” Piett said stuffily, his blocked nose readily apparent.

Veers  _ loved _ snarky Piett. Even Jedi weren’t safe.

The smuggler grinned at him as if reading his thoughts and poured him a glass. Veers took it and sank into the chair next to his friend, just in case he got  _ too _ feisty for them to handle. 

The princess rubbed the Admiral’s shoulder in sympathy as she passed, handing him a box of tissues, and holding her own as she came to nudge Solo’s boots so she could sit on the end of the same sofa. 

“All right,” she began.

“Did anyone else really enjoy the way Fey’lya’s fur got wrinkly every time Leia or the Admiral blew their noses?” Solo said, taking a neat gulp of brandy, and clearly appreciating the way it went down.

Veers smiled at the memory. 

“I was having a hard enough time actually seeing him at all, to be honest,” Piett said into his tea. 

“It must be difficult not being able to hide your emotions due to your fur,” Skywalker commented to no one in particular. 

“Yeah, well Fey’lya hasn’t exactly made it a secret how he feels about most of us,” replied Solo.

“I was rather hoping to discuss more than Fey’lya’s mood swings,” said the princess reprovingly. 

“He says my name like he’s spitting,” Piett put in, setting down his tea in order to blow his nose.

“Yes, which is worse,” Veers asked, “how Madine says AD-miral or how the senator says Pie-TT?”

“Hmmm,” Piett considered with his eyes closed. “I hate them both equally…”

“So do I,” interrupted Solo. “Oh wait, you meant how they pronounce your name.”

Piett snorted a laugh, and then winced to put a hand to his head.

“Difficult decision, Max. I think Madine edges out the senator though, but mostly because I have to hear him more often.”

“Admiral dear, I am trying to have a meeting and I’m depending on you to help me keep these three on topic since they clearly have utterly no self control.”

Piett opened his eyes to look at her fondly. “I’m sorry my dear, you’re quite right, gentlemen….”

“Oh hush Firmus, you giant push over. Your highness, you can’t tell me it doesn’t bother you every time our favorite Bothan reminds us that they won the war themselves and we were all just secondary by products.”   
  


Veers saw the moment that the princess gave up on having the sort of meeting she had intended.

She sighed and put down her data pad, and proceeded to blow her own nose. 

“It does, General of course, when I know what everyone here sacrificed to that. But I’m somewhat more used to him. It’s having to hear about all the ways we’re failing everyone in each system. As though we’re not working overtime and more to try to make things run smoothly. How many petty things each system could let go! Then we might actually get somewhere….” 

“This is where we could use Father,” Skywalker put in, clearing his throat once more.

“For kriff’s sake, Skywalker you’re driving me round the galaxy. Solo pour him a glass of that brandy,” Veers demanded.

“I don’t typically have….”

“Here you go, kid.”

“What do you mean, we could use your Father, commander?” asked Piett. He had his head resting against the back of the chair now, and if they weren’t done soon, the Admiral was going to be sleeping here for the night. 

“Well,” said the Jedi, sipping carefully at the brandy and looking up with a mischievous twinkle in his blue eyes, “with Darth Vader around I think everyone would be very honest about what was petty and what wasn’t.”

“Luke!” rebuked his sister while Solo chuckled, and even Piett offered a tired smile. 

“We could just try serving alcohol at these functions,” Veers said thoughtfully. “Think how much more we could get done if everyone was loosened up.”

“I remember thinking that in so many command meetings under Ozzel,” Piett murmured, eyes closed once more.

Veers chuckled and nudged him. “Don’t fall asleep on us, Admiral.”

“Kendal Ozzel?” Skywalker asked. “Wasn’t he the one….?” 

His sister was glaring him into silence.

“Yes,” sighed Piett. “Poor bastard, may his soul…”

“Rot forever,” muttered Veers, and Solo chuckled.

“No love there, then, General?”

He glanced at Piett who raised his eyebrows at him, in the midst of blowing his nose once more. 

“He was a Core worlder, Solo, and went out of his way to make things  _ difficult _ for a good friend of mine.”

The princess was looking at him knowingly. 

“One of my greatest career accomplishments was punching him in the face.”

Solo and Skywalker gaped at him. He grinned.

‘Well you’re still here obviously, so…...how did you get away with  _ that _ , sir?” Skywalker asked.

“Your Father apparently approved of his action,” Piett answered with a sigh.

“I very much did.”

There was a beat. 

Veers had to remind himself he didn’t need to spring to terrified attention, but  _ Force _ the man had ridiculous stealth skills. However….

“You knew he was there,” he said pointing an accusing finger at the Skywalker twins.

The Jedi just grinned infuriatingly at him.

“I knew he was on board,” said the princess petulantly, “I’m more focused on how I can remove my sinuses.”

Anakin Skywalker moved so that he could stand in the middle of their little band.

“What kind of ship were you running?” asked the irrepressible commander teasingly, “to have your top General punch the Admiral?” 

“His behavior to Captain Piett at the time was inexcusable. If General Veers hadn’t done it, it was entirely possible I would have.”

Veers was reasonably sure his brain had just shorted out at the image of Darth Vader punching Kendal Ozzel, and a glance at Piett told him that his friend was having the same issue. 

Solo snorted. “Drink then?” he offered to their commander.

“A small one, thank you Solo. I see the conference is going as well as to be expected. Admiral with a migraine like that, shouldn’t you be in your quarters at the moment?”

“Weren’t you supposed to be eight systems away at the moment, my Lord?” grumbled Piett and then paused as he recalled to whom he was speaking.

Solo was looking at him with great respect and the former Dark Lord laughed, looking to Veers.

“A snarky one then?”” he inquired, and Veers found himself smiling back despite the sore throat. 

“How did you know about….?”

“As I have told the Admiral many times,” his lordship said, seating himself on a sofa while Piett tried to disappear into his chair, blushing furiously, “there is not anything that happens on the Lady I  _ don’t _ know about.”

He took a sip and looked around at their no doubt pitiful appearances. 

“If you would like, my daughter, I could look over the various requests to help weed out what is not crucial.”

And the Force sent the data pad into his hands.

_ That was a yes then, _ thought Veers.


	67. Keep your friends close....

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This started out as a fun little adventure romp---action sequence for our two favorite Imperials. It turned into a two part story. And then Luke decided to join in.....I could probably even do three parts but I shall keep it to two, even if the second part is longer. xD
> 
> So, part one---Piett and Veers go to see an old....friend?

The ship was a smaller version of the standard Imperial Star Destroyer, and more grey than white.

Piett recalled seeing one once when he had newly joined the Imperial Navy, but that had been the only time. As they neared it, it fired a salute appropriate for an Imperial Fleet Admiral and Veers, standing next to him, raised his eyebrows.

“Well. It’s been a while since I’ve seen that display.”

Piett smiled slightly. “Rafe was always given to enjoying all the pomp and circumstance.”

  
  
“If you like, Admiral, I could suggest to Leia that we do that for you more often,” said Skywalker who was piloting the lambda. 

Piett chuckled. “First, Skywalker, we don’t have the ammunition to waste on that, second, I don’t see your sister agreeing to that----

“Oh she would for  _ you _ ,” Veers muttered.

“-----and third,” continued the Admiral, serenely ignoring the General, “I really don’t fancy being that ostentatious.”

The young Jedi threw a grin over his shoulder. “I know, sir, just teasing.” 

An old colleague of Piett’s, who he had thought lost at Endor, had contacted them recently. Apparently, he had been hopping around the Arkanis sector attempting to figure out which Imperial faction he should join, and finally became fed up with all the infighting. 

He and his crew wished to join the New Republic and were offering the ship as well. Such a request was certainly a welcome one, and had already happened three other times in the course of the two years since Endor. 

Naturally, they needed to check the claim and find out if this was a genuine request, so the Lady had come out to meet them, and Skywalker had offered the added security of a Jedi pilot.

_ “It’s Rafe,” said Piett to Veers as they boarded the shuttle, “we always got on. I wouldn’t say we were friends in that way, but he was pleasant when he didn’t need to be and I appreciated that.” _

_ Veers had sighed. “Firmus, we really need to talk about the low bar you have for considering someone to be a good person. No one should have times when they can choose to be  _ **_unpleasant_ ** _ to you, and that be in any way normal.” _

_ “I’m just saying, Max, that I have a hard time seeing him having underhanded reasons for wanting to join the fleet.” _

_ “And I’m saying, Admiral, that he’s been hanging out in mostly loyal Imperial space here for a while. Let’s not get too excited yet.” _

_ “Yes, Veers, it’s why I’m wearing a blaster,” Piett had sighed.  _

Not everyone had been best pleased by the idea of Piett going to meet the other Imperial Admiral, Veers naturally being one of them. 

_ “He should come to you,” he had stressed. “You outrank him.” _

_ “I agree, Admiral,” said the princess. _

_ “My dear, how many times have you gone in personally to a situation because you wished to display trust? This is no different.” _

_ “The Lady doesn’t like it either,” she’d said, raising an eyebrow at him. _

_ Solo had snickered.  _

_ “You, my dear girl, are upping the manipulation here,” he told her, pointing a finger at her, but smiling. “The Lady has yet to like it when I leave the ship. Ganging up on me will not work.” _

_ The princess had sighed and smiled back, placing a small hand on his arm and looking across to Veers. _ _  
  
_

_ “Well, obviously I’m coming as well,” his friend had said immediately. _

_ “Of course,” Piett had murmured. His people wanted to have his back. He would let them. _

  
  


Skywalker was communicating with the Vespasia and piloted them into the hangar bay, rather than having the tractor beam do it. There was a large greeting party of what seemed to be the senior officers and several divisions of stormtroopers.

“ _ Stars _ ,” said Veers, “he really wants to flatter you.”

Piett was uncomfortable. “I hope he doesn’t think I’m like Ozzel now,” he said quietly as he tugged on his gloves.

“Ugh,” his friend responded, “why bring that up now? I’m working on my pleasant face.”

“I wasn’t aware you had more than one expression,” Piett told him with feigned innocence.

Veers gave him a long sideways glance while Piett got control of his twitching mouth.

“It's so sad to see what fraternizing with rebels does to people one considered friends,” Veers commented as the ramp lowered. 

Piett gave a soft chuckle, and then made his way down to the deck, Veers next to him and Skywalker right behind them. 

A ‘ten hut!’ was called and the entire bay of men came to attention. 

_ It was quite an overpowering feeling to get that much attention. He understood the pull, while at the same time not wanting it.  _

The man at the front of the rows stepped forward. He was close to Veers’ height, and had aged considerably since Piett last saw him, but then, hadn’t they all. 

“Admiral Piett. Welcome aboard, sir.”

“Thank you, Admiral Culaaney. It’s good to see you.”

The two of them shook hands. 

“This is General Veers and Commander Skywalker. Gentlemen, Admiral Rafe Culaaney,” Piett said.

“Oh I know who you both are,” said Culaaney, shaking their hands in turn. “A pleasure to have you aboard as well. Such an honor.”

Veers raised an eyebrow at Piett as the other Admiral turned.

“Shall we have a little tour of the Vespasia? She’s no Executor of course, but then, Piett here always got the cream of the crop when it came to ships.”

That seemed slightly off, and Piett shared a puzzled look with Veers as they made their way out of the bay.

“I am very grateful for her indeed,” he said. Rafe laughed lightly.

“Yes, I can imagine. Most powerful weapon in the galaxy at the moment. She’s something.”   
  


“She is.”

“Would you like a caf or something before we talk about how all this works?” his former colleague asked with a smile.

_ What was wrong? Something was, he was sure. _

The turbolift they were standing in front of hissed open, and Culaaney motioned to them. He and Veers stepped in……

…...and behind them, Skywalker was suddenly surrounded by an entire squad of stormtroopers pointing their blasters at him.

Piett drew his blaster and fired, but then the doors were hissing shut, and his body seized as something was shoved into his back and he collapsed to the floor, writhing under the assault of the electric baton. It stopped at last and he lay still, just trying to breathe.

“Are we going to have any trouble General Veers?” asked the Admiral, his voice sounding far away above him as Piett panted into the metal plating, and tried to bring his scattered brain back together. 

_ Force he hated electricity. _

“I’d love to give you lots of trouble actually,” Veers snarled as Piett felt his arms drawn behind his back and binders clicked around his wrists. Then he was hauled to his feet which he couldn’t seem to be working well, and he hung between the two troopers who had him. 

Veers had Culaaney’s blaster pressed very firmly against his temple as he was restrained as well.

“What…..what do you hope to do here, Rafe?” Piett gasped. “The Lady is right…...over there.”

The lift stopped and they were shoved out, Piett finally managing to get his legs working, though not well. 

“That’s true,” the other Admiral responded, not looking back at them as they moved through the corridor, “but she won’t be in a moment.”

And Piett could feel the ship powering her engines……

“Make the jump,” Culaaney commanded into a comlink, and with a slight shudder, Piett knew they’d gone into hyperspace. They were pushed into a large room---not unlike Piett’s conference room, to discover several other people waiting for them. 

All were richly, and in most cases, ostentatiously dressed.    
  


“Gentle Beings!” said Culaaney, striding in and opening his arms wide. “As promised, here they are. I believe you said it couldn’t be done. But lo! I deliver on my promises.”

“What the kriffing hell is going on?” Veers growled in puzzlement next to him.

One of the individuals, a large red and white striped Togruta rose. 

“Do the tests,” he commanded a lackey hovering in the background. “And we were promised a Jedi. I do not see him.”

“Jedi take special detainment,” the Admiral said casually. “We had to stun him first and he was a last minute addition as you know. That will cost extra. Don’t worry, you’ll see your prize. But we can start with these two.”

And Piett felt a sharp prick in his shoulder as a needle pierced it, drawing blood.

“What….?”

The servant looked up as something beeped in his device.    
  


“It is indeed, Admiral Piett.”

A similar confirmation was done for Veers.

The human female with long blood-red nails was regarding him with a curl to her lips, which were painted a glossy black.

“This is a very exclusive event Admiral Culaaney. Beings are paying top credits to even watch, let alone bet. While the sentiment will be worth a great deal to have these two traitors, we are expected to provide a good show as well. That one will be killed in seconds.”

She nodded at him. 

“What do you think you’re doing here, Rafe? Selling us out to the Imperials?” Piett could not fathom what was happening.

His former colleague laughed nastily. “They wouldn’t pay nearly enough, Piett. Oh this is so delicious. I wish I could watch, but places to go, credits to spend. You always got the best positions. Here’s where it’s led you.”

“You must be a seriously impaired moron if you think that the Admiral has had some sort of charmed life,” Veers spat. “You’re doing this because you were  _ jealous _ ?”

“Well…..I mean here I was from Coruscant itself and I always got the dregs, while the Outer Rim here….”

And Veers snarled in wordless rage on his behalf.

“....serves in Death Squadron.”

“So, sure, jealousy--sort of the motive. But mostly? Credits.”

“This tires me,” put in the woman rising. “Why is the small one costing me so much?”

Rafe looked him in the eye and smiled something that boded no good.

“Let me demonstrate. He always was surprising.” He motioned to a trooper next to Veers.

“Shoot the General.”

_ No _ .

Piett’s heart was plunged into ice water as the blaster was lifted toward his friend. Veers remained stoic.

“I thought you were paying for us to live,” he said calmly.

“True,” replied Culaaney, “but you don’t need both legs.”

And the trooper was placing his rifle right against Veers’ knee and the General flinched very slightly….

Piett dove for the man, knocking him aside. He may not have his hands, and he may only be buying Veers minutes, but he had to try.

He swept his leg up to kick the blaster rifle aside, and the trooper was cursing at him and then….

….that  _ kriffing _ baton once more, and he was left helpless and twitching on the maroon carpet feeling ill, with bad memories sweeping him.

“You see?” he heard, again as though through water, and the woman gave a high nasty laugh.

“Well. Great fun indeed. Thank you for such a revealing demonstration, Admiral. Take them to my ship and secure them there. When we arrive I want to be able to get planetside as quickly as possible.”

Piett was hauled up once more and hated deeply that he couldn’t walk. He tried to ignore Veers’ concerned look, and focus on the face of Culaaney.

“The Lady is going to obliterate you,” he told him.

The man laughed. “I’ll be long gone, Piett, retired somewhere with lots of alcohol. I should really thank you for being worth so much.”

And they were hauled away. 

The woman’s ship was in a different hangar bay. It was sleek and expensive and bright red. Piett blinked at that as they were taken inside to an enclosed room (box really) in the hold, clearly meant to convey prisoners. They were shoved onto benches on either wall and both had their ankles shackled and attached to the floor and then the door hissed shut behind them, leaving them to look at each other in the very dim light.

“Firmus….are you all right? I’m so sorry that baton wielding  _ bastard… _ .”

Piett closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths, leaning back against the bulkhead.

_ Veers knew his hatred and revulsion for such weapons. He had been tortured that way some time back and it still….. _

“Thanks Max. Not all right, really, no. Getting there.”

Veers shifted across from him. “All right. We’ve been sold.  _ Why _ ?”

Piett opened his eyes to look at his friend. “I do want to know that. But more pressingly, how did they know Skywalker was piloting? We didn’t tell them that. It was a decision we made mere hours before the rendezvous.”

Veers digested this.

“Hells.”

“Yes.”

“A  _ spy _ on the Lady?”

“Or at least someone who could be bought,” Piett said tiredly. 

“I just….I would have that after all this time….son of a  _ Hutt _ .” 

The Admiral could feel the frustration coming off of his friend. He understood it. Someone under his command for at least these last few years, who had been with them, had sold out his commanding officers--likely to death.

“And Skywalker….”

“We didn’t actually see him go down,” Piett reminded him.

“He was surrounded and his weapon was on his belt, Firmus.”

“I know, but perhaps they don’t know what we do.”

“Which is?”

“He can communicate what’s happening, and they won’t know it.”

“Straws, Admiral.”

Piett smiled at him slightly. “I know.”

The door hissed open suddenly and the woman was there, leaning casually against the frame and smoking a very thin cigarette.

“You two wouldn’t happen to know where your little Jedi friend’s got to would you?”

_ Piett tried not to look too hopeful. Had Skywalker actually managed an escape? _

Veers stared at her impassively. “Buyer beware,” he commented coolly.

She blew smoke at him. “I like you, General. Well at least I have you two I suppose. That will be quite a draw anyway.”

“For _what_?” Piett asked, tired of not having any idea where they might be headed.

“Oh my little Imp,  _ you _ wouldn’t have heard of it before.”

PIett hated that terminology. “Enlighten me.”

“Every year, we have the most exclusive game in the galaxy. We all bring the biggest names we can find.”

“Kidnap and sell you mean,” Veers put in. 

“Does it matter?” she responded unfazed. “I wanted some top New Republic brass. And I found a way to get it. And former _Imperial_ top brass. Well. A Jedi though…..what a bonus that would have been.” She looked slightly morose for a moment, then brightened.

“But you’ll still be close to the most unique. I’ll receive points for the difficulty level of acquiring you.”

“What  _ games _ ?” Piett ground out.

She grinned, her lips drawn tight against her white teeth.

“The Shadow Games. The most secret and exclusive gladiatorial games in the galaxy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh yeah. The second part. Well. I can almost hear the "are you not entertained?" ;)


	68. And your Enemies Closer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Piett and Veers fight for their lives and each other. Which is what they do best. ;)

Veers shifted again and then tried to resign himself to being uncomfortable. He had felt when the woman’s ship had disembarked from the larger Imperial vessel and after several hours had passed, he could tell they were descending into atmosphere. 

They landed with a soft bump and shortly afterward, the woman and several of what he assumed were her bodyguards, appeared.

“Well here we are,” she said brightly, reminding him of nothing so much as a poisonous, brightly colored amphibian. “No trouble now boys.”

And her lackeys undid the chains on their ankles, and shoved them into the main hold.    
  


“Now,” she said, practically flouncing ahead of them, “this is all very exclusive and secret, and even though you’re likely going to die here, we can’t take any risks. So you’ll be wearing these,” she produced two fabric bags, and Veers sighed. 

“And if there’s any trouble from you...” she nodded at one of the lackeys standing near Piett, who promptly shoved his stun baton into the Admiral’s side, sending him to his knees.

“Stop it, you kriffing  _ bastard _ !” Veers yelled at them. He jerked his gaze to the woman who was smiling like a predator. 

_ She had enjoyed that.  _

“I won’t bother arresting you,” Veers promised her, as Piett wheezed beside him, and struggled unsteadily to his feet. “I’ll just kill you.”

She laughed trillingly. 

“Oh General, again, I like you so much!! And it’s so lovely to know that this protective instinct of yours goes both ways. So.”

She cocked her head and put her hands on her hips. “No trouble from you, General Veers, or I’ll make sure your short Admiral here suffers for it.”

Piett coughed. “Do your worst you absolute  _ cow _ .”

She tutted at him. “Language, Admiral dear,” and Veers saw his friend stiffen. 

“Don’t call me that.”

_ Indeed, only one person had that privilege. _

“Oho.” She got right up to Piett, who looked her in the eye with cold hostility. 

“Who is she then, Admiral? Will she  _ miss _ you?”

_ Lady, you have no idea. _

Piett kept his mouth shut, clearly not wanting to give her more ammunition. 

“Mmmm,” she patted his cheek. “There’s more to you I see. But----same warning. You misbehave,” she tapped him on the nose, “and I’ll make sure the General can’t walk.”

She turned and snapped her fingers. “Hoods.” 

The lackeys obeyed, and Veers lost all idea of direction until they were uncuffed and shoved forward, the hoods being removed. They were in some sort of underground cavern with cells built in. 

“Jackets,” said one of the hulking lackeys.

Veers shared a look with Piett. 

_ Not a hill to die on. _

They both unlatched their duty jackets and shrugged out of them, handing them over.

“This will be such a fun little teaser you see,” explained their captor. “The crowd will have to guess who I have based on these. Such a laugh!” She smiled at them as the lackeys swung the bars closed and locked them. 

“See you soon boys,” she promised and then sashayed away, followed by the bodyguards. 

Veers looked around the big cavern. He could see beings in the myriad of cells, possibly hundreds, maybe thousands.

_ Kriff, how would they get out of this one? _

He shivered slightly in his short sleeved undershirt as Piett came to stand beside him.

“ _ Force _ , how many beings are here?”

“Well she was right about this being the biggest event in the galaxy,” Veers said, turning to give his friend a critical eye.

He looked a bit grey in the dim light, and was holding himself carefully, but otherwise seemed to be managing. Piett caught his gaze and straightened slightly.

_ All right, Admiral, I won’t fuss. _

“So….” Piett started, rubbing his arms against the goosebumps in the cool atmosphere, “thoughts on escaping?”

Veers snorted a laugh and began to pace slowly, to warm up, Piett falling into step beside him. 

“Well, Firmus, I have to admit I was pondering thoughts of  _ rescue _ more than escape at this point, but this is yet another reason why you are my best friend.”

Piett cocked an eyebrow at him.

“You just  _ cannot _ give up, no matter the circumstances. I rather admire that.”

Piett smiled. “Well, I have you here, Max. Things can’t be entirely hopeless.”

“All right, well thanks. Moving on to what we know….”

“You sound like a detective when you do that,” Piett commented as they made another circuit of the cell.

Veers actually managed a laugh. “Maybe I should consider a career shift.”

Piett gave him a skeptical look. 

“All right. Well. Your delightful little friend betrayed us right next to the Lady. How much do you think she could pick up?”

Piett pondered this. “A valid point. Further, I didn’t see any ysalamir or Force repressing equipment when they went after Skywalker. Granted, it could have been there later, but in the moment, I am hopeful he could communicate with his sister. Who can communicate with the Lady….”

“Let’s not get too far ahead there, Admiral. I agree it’s  _ possible _ . I’m not counting on it.”

“Well they hadn’t got Skywalker by the time we were getting ready to leave on the pleasure cruise with the space witch.”

Veers’ mouth twitched. If Piett was properly angry, he had some very choice ways of putting things.

“True. There may be some hope in that. Again though, we need to plan as though we have no back up.”

Piett sighed. “Yes, I know. And when we say gladiatorial, do we get weapons? Or is this the kind where creatures come out to eat us?”

“Well thank you for  _ that _ depressing thought, Piett.”

“There are lots of ways this could go. I want to ponder as many eventualities as possible, General. And I didn’t like the way that she was interested in….well in our friendship. I’m afraid they will try to exploit that.”

_ Yes, this had occurred to Veers too. _

“Then we’ll just have to do our best when it comes to it.”

Piett was silent for a moment as they continued to walk on the hard dirt floor.

“Veers…..if we have to make the hard decision…”

“Stop.”

“Max.”   
  


“No. I know what you’re going to say.” Veers stopped moving, and Piett pulled up to look at him.

“Both or none, Admiral. We’ve always said that. I will  _ not _ make an exception here.”

They walked in silence for several minutes. Then----

“General.”

Veers looked down at him as he stared at the ground.

“You unfailingly having my back is one of the greatest things this galaxy could have given me. I don’t say it enough, so…..”

Veers smiled. 

“Are we going soft Firmus?”

A snort.

“Did our last sparring session imply that, Max?”

“I still have bruises from that you know. I don’t know if I should be proud that you didn’t hold back or upset because they still kriffing hurt.”

Piett grinned and then looked up as a voice called from across the way.

“You the Imperials?”

Veers exchanged a glance with his friend.

“Not exactly, why?”

“Rumor has it that top Imperial brass is here.”

Veers could just see the being across the way.  _ A Trandoshan? Never fun to grapple with. _

“Well, rumor is mistaken.”

“Wait.  _ I _ know who you are….” a new voice in the cell next to the Trandoshan and a huge Herglic peered out.

“You’re  _ Vader’s _ Imperials. I remember seeing you on the holonet.”

A rumble around the cavern. Piett looked at him and raised his eyebrows.

“Well…that’s an interesting way to put it. We work for the New Republic….” Veers started, but hissing and growling around them drowned him out. 

“I’ll be looking for you,” promised the Herglic, “and I’ll crush you.”

****

They passed a restless night, trying to sleep on the hard ground, back to back, to get what warmth they could. Veers must have dozed off eventually, because he jerked up when the bars of their cell were hit with something metal. Piett swore softly beside him.

“Wakey, wakey!” The woman was dressed in a bright poisonous green that Veers thought rather fitting. Her lipstick today was vibrant orange-- a shade that reminded him of the rebel flight suits. If they met her, maybe they could be convinced to change it. 

“Well gentlemen, last night's bets were well worth it, so you better deliver today.”

“How does this work?” Veers growled at her as they rose to their feet. He could tell Firmus was feeling the stun hits of yesterday, by how he was moving. 

“Oh darling, that would be telling. You’ll figure it out. That’s part of the fun.” 

The door opened and they walked out, the lackeys all pointing wicked looking blasters their way. 

“Follow me,” she said and they went down a side corridor lined with lanterns. Eventually they ended up at a barred gate where they all stopped. The woman shook out her black hair and prepared herself as though for a press appearance.

Then the gate rose and they came out, blinking in the bright sun. They were in some sort of deep arena---the walls went up the equivalent of 16 decks on the Lady. Starting about halfway up were vast seating areas, all filled with excited beings waving flags and yelling. 

All around the arena, similar gates were opened with other beings and their buyers. Announcements were made in various languages. When it came to them the woman stepped forward to wild applause--she seemed popular---and bowed elegantly. Veers couldn’t understand what was being announced about them.

“They’re saying that this will be almost as good as killing Vader,” Firmus said to his left, surprising him.

“How do you…?”

“They’re speaking Huttese as well as a few other languages I don’t know.”

He listened some more. “Great. A blow to both Darth Vader and the New Republic, our deaths will be something to enjoy.”

“Wow.”

“Quite.”

The woman turned to them, smiling widely. “Well, it’s been lovely. Fight hard you two. Particularly you, Admiral  _ darling _ .” 

Piett narrowed his eyes but didn’t rise to the bait. “Do we get a weapon?” he asked calmly instead.

She laughed her trilling laugh again. “Oh you are precious. No. But we do have one more thing, to make this more fun.”

She signalled to her guards and they stepped forward to shackle Veers’ ankles with about four feet of chain between. They did the same to Piett’s wrists though his were closer together.

“Enjoy the challenge, boys,” she said, blowing them a kiss and then she and her entourage retreated back down the tunnels.

_ Oh this was so very not good.  _

Most of the others were being herded back into the tunnels. But there was a being approaching them, and clearly they were first on the docket. As it got closer, Veers realized it was a Barabel. And it was carrying two double bladed knives.

“Kriffing  _ hell _ ,” said Piett feelingly, and Veers was with him. 

And he couldn’t move very far, leaving Piett to have to take point…..his friend looked so very small as the Barabel grinned, showing his numerous needle like teeth.

“They think to mock me,” he hissed, flipping his knives expertly. 

“What will you do, little human? Perhaps I should offer you a knife?”

“Seems fair,” Piett agreed coolly. “But we don’t have to do this. We don’t have to entertain them.”

The green skinned alien laughed. “I am not here for you. I was told to come for your friend.”   
  


And Veers understood. He looked up and caught a flash of poisonous green. He wanted a shot at her.

_ The spectacle was their attempt to defend each other _ .

But then the Barabel had swiftly side stepped Piett to lunge at Veers with one of his wicked knives. He was able to move to the side and it just missed him, but the chain pulled tight between his ankles.

_ Damn it, he was so very restricted like this. _ _   
_   
The reptilian alien spun to come at him again and suddenly tripped cursing, and Veers realized that Piett had flung his arms out as the being stepped, looping his arms and the attached chain around its leg.

The General managed to get a bit more distance as the Barabel hissed angrily at his friend, and swiped down at his unprotected back. Veers shouted in fear and Piett rolled to the side, the knife burying itself in the sand right next to him. 

The crowd was roaring its approval of the move, and the Admiral seized this chance, grasping the knife below the grip of the Barabel and tugging as hard as he could. The creature kicked out with his leg and Piett went flying. 

It turned its attention back to Veers. He spread his hands and took the best stance he could, but they both knew he had seconds to live.

But the alien stopped once again, this time to roar in pain and Piett dodged back around, withdrawing the knife he had stolen from the creature’s side.

“I want  _ you _ little human!” it snarled, and Piett smiled through bloody teeth.

“That’s the idea.”

_ And nine hells no, Admiral. _

The Barabel swung his knife and Piett blocked it with his blade though he needed both hands and his whole body trembled with the force of the clash. It was enough. Veers sprang next to Piett and used his entire body weight to seize the creature’s arm and bear it down, twisting its wrist as he did so, and stripping it of the other knife. 

The Barabel was furious now and seized Piett by the throat, but Veers was moving, and he slid the blade home under the ribs, going for the lungs.

It choked and spasmed, flinging the Admiral away again to turn to him. He withdrew the knife and stabbed again. This time he wasn’t quick enough and it had him by the throat, squeezing desperately.

Veers grasped at the scaly hands and dropped the knife.  _ He couldn’t breathe. Eyes were dimming. Sorry Admiral... _

Suddenly he had air and he drew it in gasps, stumbling back as the creature in front of him was frozen. Then it fell, its own knife driven into the base of the skull and Piett was there, panting and bruised, blood trickling down one side of his face. 

The two of them stared at each other as the crowd around exploded with cheers.

A trumpet blew above and then from across the arena, larger gates opened. The ground seemed to shake.

The other gates lifted and more and more beings poured into the arena.

“I’m thinking that it’s not just sentients here,” the Admiral commented, “Also, some beings are armed.”

“All right,” said Veers thinking furiously, “Priorities. Keep each other’s backs safe. Try to maintain that.” He handed Piett the other knife.

“On it,” responded Piett, licking dry lips as the first of the animals came out. A rancor. Perfect. Some in the arena were already running and screaming.

“Rules for this part?” asked his friend.

“Rather think it’s a free for all!” Veers shouted as several Loth wolves slid in like shadows. “All right, Piett, see our friend from last night?” 

The Trandoshan was running for them, but he was carrying a long, crackling spear.

“You want his stick?” Piett asked, preparing himself, and Veers watched his friend slip into a positively predatory mode.

“Yes.” Veers was keeping an eye all round them too. Various fights were already well under way and the rancor was chewing what looked like the remains of a Rodian. An antenna fell to the sand. Yes, a Rodian. 

“You’re mine, Imperials!” roared the Trandoshan, and he lunged at Piett who sidestepped easily and then utilized the chain between his wrists to capture the alien’s left arm. Veers saw his chance, and moved forward as best he could, to seize the weapon in the being’s other hand and wrest it from him. He succeeded just as Piett was flung to the sand several feet away, and Veers thrust into the Trandoshan’s belly, pressing the trigger that released the energy. The alien was blown back and promptly trampled by a huge and enraged mudhorn. 

_ Oh kriff don’t let it come this way. He didn’t know of anything that stopped mudhorns.  _

Piett was on his feet again and standing near Veers who shocked a Loth wolf as it lept toward them. 

Then some insect like alien tackled Piett to the sand, snatching his knife and leaping away to stab another creature.

“All right!” Veers shouted, as Piett struggled to his feet. “You need a weapon!” 

Suddenly from the other side a long snake-like whip licked out and entangled Piett’s legs. The Admiral went down with a sharp cry. The whip had a hook on the end that had ripped into his calf. Veers could see another Loth wolf turn and sniff at the blood scent.

A Gran was wielding the whip. He jerked, and it tore out of Piett’s leg, but the Admiral was already scrambling to his feet and as it whistled toward him again, he held up both arms to allow the whip to tangle into the chain between his wrists.

_ Oh very nice thinking, Firmus _ .

The whip ripped another gash in his forearm as it tangled with his chain but Piett was  _ fighting _ \---Veers knew that look----and possibly didn’t even feel that one. The Admiral pulled hard and the Gran stumbled within range of Veers who had him down in one thrust.

Piett disentangled the whip, and grasped the handle to stride several paces and take up his position, back to back with Veers. This allowed the General to keep his focus forward. Time merged. 

Screams, sweat, blood and heat.

“Keep clear of that rancor!” he shouted at his friend as they slowly moved in tandem around the arena. He had no idea how long they’d been going at it. His under- shirt was soaked with sweat and blood where a lucky clawed strike had scored his chest.

There were fewer beings, but things were still chaotic. Was it last man standing? Or beast?

Piett was limping heavily and his hair was very curly, which meant he was soaked in sweat. 

They had done well, but Veers knew they couldn’t keep it up. As if hearing this thought the Herglic was bearing down on them.

“Firmus!” he shouted, and his friend spun around to lash out at the being’s legs with the whip. It caught, but it was as though the alien didn’t even feel it. He tugged viciously and Piett was sent flying to land hard 30 feet away on the bloody sand. He didn’t move.

“Force  _ damn _ it, no!” Veers prepared to fight, but the Herglic was focused on his fallen friend and stumped toward him.  _ He could crush Piett _ . 

Veers stumbled his way after him. “Hey! Hey! I’m right here you giant kriffer!” 

And it was like those nightmares where you can never run fast enough---as though you are running in water---except it was real.

_ Not Firmus, please Force don’t take him….but he wasn’t going to get there… _

The Herglic raised his huge foot and suddenly with a brilliant flash of green, he was missing an arm and he stumbled back. 

Luke Skywalker flung out his hand, and the massive alien was sent all the way across the arena to smack hard into the Rancor which roared and gripped him in its huge talons.

“General!” he shouted, as Veers finally made it to Piett. “Head for the left side, and get near the wall!”

Veers knelt by Piett to grasp him when the Admiral’s eyes flew open, and he drew in great breaths. Badly winded then, but all right. Relatively.

_ Thank the Force. _

“Hold on,” the young Jedi said, throwing a Loth wolf away with his power. “Hold your hands as far apart as possible, sir!”

Piett coughed and rolled to his knees, then obeyed. The blade sliced down, and Veers had his heart in his throat, but then Piett’s hands were free as the chain was cut.

“General?”

Veers stood still and the lightsaber sliced through his chains like butter. At last he could  _ move _ . 

“Left side!” repeated the Jedi and Veers realized he was blocking blaster shots from above to cover their retreat.

“Where did you come from?” Piett called.

“Snuck onto the Togruta’s ship. He didn’t get here until recently. Sorry about the delay!” Skywalker yelled as they made their way to the left side of the arena.

Veers wasn’t complaining.

But blaster fire was pouring in now, and small hovercraft were setting forth from the viewer’s area with more of the former spectators, including one in poison green.

_ Son of a Hutt. _

“Skywalker! Can you get us blasters?”

He knew the young Jedi’s attention was divided already, but suddenly two of the beings on a craft heading their way were bereft of their weapons, and they sailed into his and Piett’s hands.

“Fantastic.”

At least they had a way to help the commander and for a while it looked as if they were holding them off….

But more and more hovercraft were starting to lift off…

“What’s the plan, Skywalker?” called Piett, firing rapidly and with his usual deadly precision, but Veers knew he had to be as exhausted as he himself was. This couldn’t last.

“To hang on for one more minute, sir!” the younger man called, his blade whirling in front of them. 

“We don’t have a minute!” Veers growled and yes, he could see their green clad buyer now and she was firing…

A lancing and burning white hot light shattered its way into the arena, blowing out the right side of the high wall with a sound like a volcanic eruption. The blast flung all of them back and the little crafts were blown through the air like leaves in a storm.

There was a ringing in Veers’ ears, and drifting debris as he lifted his head from the sand. Near him, Skywalker and Piett did the same, making it to their knees. The woman in green, looking much the worse for wear, spat out blood and staggered to her feet.

“What was  _ that _ ?” she demanded. 

Piett smiled his dangerous smile. “Backup,” he said, pointing his blaster at their former captor.

And Veers had the crashing realization---Piett had that  _ glow _ of triumph about him----that the Lady had just weighed in on the action. 

“Surrender now,” Piett said, “or everything here will be obliterated.”

The woman glanced around at some of her companions as they all weighed their options, but suddenly the woman was rising into the air, and she shrieked in fear as a small form strode past Piett her hand outstretched.

The other beings were gaping up at the woman in awe.

“Surrender or I throw you at the rancor--it’s right over there. I can send you each into its mouth, one at a time. Your choice,” her royal highness declared, voice cold, but eyes blazing. 

Blasters dropped to the sand with soft thumps, and Skywalker moved them out of reach with his powers. 

“Leia…” he chided gently.

“I’m not  _ killing _ them, Luke.” She dropped the woman to the sand, and moved to stand right in front of her as she rose shakily to her feet. 

Veers was close enough to hear her, though he didn’t think the others could.

“How  _ dare _ you take my Admiral?” the princess hissed like a snake. “How  _ dare _ you touch him and the General? Be glad I told the Lady to hold back.”

No doubt the woman had no idea who the Lady was, but the princess was finished. She turned, and all the assembled criminals were shoved with invisible force to find themselves on their backs in the arena.

“Leia,” Skywalker tried again as troopers from the Lady came pouring in, blasters ready and began rounding up the prisoners.

He looked slightly exasperated as he caught Veers’ eye.

“Her temper…” the young Jedi began.

“Was under control,” Veers assured him. “She could have done far worse.” 

They watched her as she walked into Piett’s arms, and the two of them just stood together for a moment.

Skywalker motioned to the approaching med team. “They’ll want to see you.”

Veers sighed and moved toward his friend and the princess.

“....Lady took some talking down, I can tell you. I wasn’t sure she would even listen to  _ me _ , Admiral dear.”   
  


And his friend smiled widely at her, because only she could call him that.

The princess turned as Piett’s eyes found his, and then he found himself on the receiving end of a strong grip around his waist.

“Is this going to be something you do now, your highness?” he asked, giving her a few pats on the back.   
  
_ I see you rolling your eyes, Firmus. _   
  


“Yes,” she told him with a laugh, “I promise to keep it rare. But someone needs to do it once in a while---shall I save it for near death experiences?”

“Once a month then,” he told her gravely. She released him, smiling, as the med team personnel began to surround them.

“The Lady was quite precise,” Piett commented, as he allowed himself to be gently shoved to a sitting position on a gravsled by his princess.

“I showed her the arena. She did very well, didn’t she? You should know though, that she is seriously considering locking you in your quarters.”

Veers snorted. “Not a terrible idea. Your highness, how did you…?”   
  


“Luke told me of course. Apparently, this Culaaney--and Admiral dearest, you’re making it hard for me to trust any other Imperials outside of Death Squadron----thought that a squadron of storm troopers would be enough against him. I’ll let Luke tell you how easy it was to get away from them.”   
  


She stepped to the side to allow the medics to deal with the gashes on Piett’s arm and leg, frowning slightly at the wounds.

“But of course he wasn’t going to abandon you. So, it was quite easy for the Lady to follow the Vespasia, and we have that disgusting piece of backstabbing filth in detention.”

“So he’s alive then,” Veers put in as the medics had him sit as well, on another grav sled near Piett.

“Yes…..” she replied, looking a bit guilty.

“You punched him didn’t you?” her brother asked, coming to join them.

“Only after I made him show us the security footage so that we could track that orange lipped atrocity. Besides, Henley fixed his jaw.”

_ Well, _ Veers reflected,  _ it was a miracle the man was alive then, between the princess and the Lady.  _

“On the other hand,” Piett said, pausing to sigh in relief when a pain killer was injected, “we’ve broken up this extensive criminal ring, so that is something to be pleased about.”

“Admiral, you know I love you----”

And Veers smiled when Piett’s face glowed at that statement.

“----but I will not be particularly  _ pleased _ with this situation, until the Lady finishes her demolition job, once everyone is clear. And she feels the same.”

And Skywalker could sigh all he wanted to, but Veers was entirely in sympathy with that sentiment. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was very tempted to let the Lady just unleash everything, but then more innocent lives could have been lost. Good thing she has precision targeting. ;)
> 
> I also considered having Leia beat the snot out of Culaaney, but that's a bit too Dark Side for our princess and in my AU we're more about struggle and redemption, than falling and despair. :)


	69. Imagine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is mostly set at Varykino.

“Ani, could you open the door?” 

Anakin waved a hand at the screen, and it slid to the side, not looking up from the nerf steaks on the grill. 

“Thank you darling.”

Padme’ came out with a huge white platter in her hands, piled high with a glorious explosion of color in the variety of chopped fruit she had prepared.

“Luke and Leia, I could use a hand now. You two have been lying there long enough.”

The twins, sprawled on towels on the sloping green lawn, moaned in unison. 

“I can’t move,” Luke complained.

“You were the one who set the ‘swim the lake and back’ challenge,” Leia said accusingly, not moving her arm from over her eyes. 

“ _Stars_ , I thought you two were Jedi,” Padme’ teased, “I don’t think you could fight off Rilla right now. Which could be a reality quite soon, so you need to change and give me some help.”

“I can’t fight off Rilla in normal circumstances,” Luke murmured, making it to his knees, and snagging his towel. 

Leia snickered. “Yes and you’re in Aunt Sola’s black book for giving her too much cryum candy last time in an effort to buy her off.”

She rose and grabbed her own towel. “I’ll be down in a second, Mother.” And she disappeared into the big house. 

Padme’ set the platter on the big table on the broad terrace, and shaded her eyes with her hand, gazing out toward the clear blue of the lake. 

“I can see the boat,” she said to her husband. “They’ll be here in about ten minutes.”

Anakin looked out and agreed. He studied his wife of twenty years in the glorious early evening sun. She was even more beautiful, the few threads of grey in her dark hair making her more majestic. She was attired simply---this was a family dinner---and her blue dress hung on her slim form softly.

She felt him staring at her and grinned.

“Ani, you’ll burn the steaks.”

“Let them burn.” He drew her to him. “Do we have to have people tonight? I could think of something else to do…..” he murmured in her ear.

She laughed and he kissed her. “Dearest, our grown children are here and of _course_ we want these ‘people’ as you so rudely called them. They’re  _ family _ ! We even like them!”

He grinned. “Fine then. And these steaks are perfect thank you.” 

She ran her fingers down his arm and moved back into the house. “I’ll get the drinks going.”

Anakin watched her go and then turned his attention back to the boat. His brother-in-law loved the water almost as much as he loved the stars, and had taught himself to sail---no engines for this boat if you please.

“Do you need a master to show you how to properly cook those?” asked Obi-Wan, coming up the long stairs from the beach---looking very brown and content with life. 

Anakin snorted. “Please, your idea of a good nerf steak means we could use it for building material.”

His friend waved a dismissive hand. “Some of us, Anakin, do not like our nerf steaks still moving when they are served.”

“Even Rilla likes it pink. And she’s 7. Pathetic, O master.”

“Yes, I saw they were almost here. And just because some of us are civilized, Anakin, and like our food cooked….” he moved to the fruit platter to snag a piece as Leia came out with a tray of appetizers.

“Ah, that is lovely. And you look very fetching too, Leia.”

“Hilarious Obi-Wan,” his daughter responded dryly, in a tone remarkably like his. She set the tray on the table, and looked up to break into a big smile.

“Rilla!”

And a small curly haired brunette ran at Leia’s knees to give her a tremendous hug. 

“I won, Leia,” she declared. “Mummy and Daddy are terribly slow.”

“Have some mercy, Rilla-my-Rilla,” said Kenobi, catching her by the waist, and swinging her shrieking in delight to his shoulder. “Your mother is pregnant.”

“I’ve offered to use the Force to bring her up here from the beach,” Anakin said.

His daughter speared him with a look. “It was not amusing at all the one time you tried. I think she might have killed you if she didn’t love mother so much.”

Obi-Wan snickered. “Your face when she was done swearing at you, Anakin…..”

“Who’s swearing at him _now_?” came a new voice, and at last Sola came into view at the edge of the lawn, holding firmly to her husband’s arm. 

“We were just recalling your very vivid thoughts for him, Aunt Sola,” Leia replied with a smile, going to help them. “I can take the basket, Uncle Firmus.”

“Thank you my dear, and don’t you look lovely.”

“You see, Obi-Wan?” his daughter shot over her shoulder, “ _ he _ has manners.”

“What have I walked into?” Piett asked, as Leia kissed his cheek, and moved to kiss her aunt as well. 

“Kenobi being his usual troublesome self,” responded Anakin, flipping the steaks and brushing them with marinade. 

“That statement is coming from you, brother, I can’t say you are the one whose judgment I trust,” Sola said as Piett found a chair for her in the shade. “ _ Force _ , for both of us being fairly small, this baby is huge.”

“Maybe it’s twins,” said Luke helpfully, coming out with a pitcher of water. He proceeded to pour his aunt a glass and hand it to her, while Padme’ exited with a tray of frosty drinks. Leia seized two, handing one to Piett and the other to her father, before snagging one herself.

“Luke!” said his mother chidingly, as Anakin and Obi-Wan snickered at Piett’s frozen face, and Sola glowered at her nephew.

“Hello, Sola darling, you are a trooper to make it up those stairs,” Padme' said, hugging her sister, and picking up her own drink.

“Well, we won’t have another opportunity to take the boat out before these two deploy, and Firmus loves it so,” Sola replied, smiling fondly at her husband, who took her hand. 

“Rilla does too, where did she get to….ah.” he spotted her at the huge rope swing across the lawn, installed especially for her. 

“I thought Veers was coming,” Kenobi said, looking around. 

“Oh they are,” Padme’ responded, “but apparently, Zev just got back so he’s joining us too.”

Luke and Leia both looked up with pleased expressions.

“That’s great!” Luke exclaimed, “I’ve been wanting to hear about how training went!”

Anakin smiled. Both Luke and Zevulon Veers loved fighters, though Luke preferred the X-Wings and Zev was learning to fly A-Wings.

“Is Max going to take the same shuttle with you two?” Sola asked, relaxing back in the chair, and taking another drink of water.

“That’s the plan,” Anakin responded. “The Veers will stay here the next few days to make that easier.”

Piett moved across the lawn at his daughter’s insistence for being pushed on the swing.

“I saw you with your mother at the last Senate meeting on the holonet,” Sola commented to Leia as she sat down near her aunt. “You looked so very grown up.”   
  


“Oh thanks, Aunt Sola,” his daughter said, eyes shining, “It’s so interesting listening to all the speeches and debates.”

“ _ All _ of them?” Padme’ asked with a knowing smile. 

“Ok,” Leia laughed, “not  _ all _ of them. But still…..”

“So here’s where everyone’s hiding!” declared Veers striding around from the front of the big house, flanked by Zev and Myra.

Another round of hugs, and drink distribution happened while Anakin removed the steaks and covered them. 

“So Luke,” Obi-Wan said, turning to his son, “When is the lightsaber making mission?”

Anakin shared a look with him and smiled.

“Soon,” Luke answered. “I mean, obviously, you are all deploying for six months but after that, Father thought that he and I and Leia could all go to Jedha.”

“I’ve been told that having Jedi babysitting is quite the rage,” Myra said with a quiet smile, leaning against her tall husband, and looking at Sola.

“Oh yes. Rilla runs them through their paces,” Sola said, smiling at Luke’s grimace. “Wears them out in fact.”

“Rilla is a force of nature, aren’t you darling?” said her father, coming up to them with the Jedi defeater in question on his shoulders.

“What does that mean?” the curly haired girl asked. “Hi Uncle Max!”

“Hello sweetheart.”

“It means,” said Piett, swinging her down, “that you are amazing and strong and capable of making your cousins very tired while you could still keep going.”

“Hey!” Leia protested. 

“All right,  _ Luke _ gets very tired,” Piett corrected, smiling at his son’s offended look.

“Firmus, what will you do when the baby comes?” Myra asked, leaning down for a hug from Rilla.

“Well,” said Piett, shooting Anakin a glance, “I’ve been told the commander of the Republic fleet isn’t as much of a hard nose as has been reported, so I’ll be taking leave about a week before the due date.”

“Yes, I’ve been waiting to use the new title,  _ Admiral _ ,” Veers said, with a wide grin at his friend, and shaking his hand.

“It’s purely nepotism of course,” Anakin said, taking a long drink from the refreshing cocktail. 

“Ani, you are utterly terrible,” reproved his wife, coming over again holding a water pitcher and leaning in to give Piett a quick peck on the cheek. “And I meant to say congratulations when you got here, Firmus, but got distracted by the adorable baby bump.”

He laughed. “I’ve already accepted that I’m outranked by my children.”

“All right everyone, we can sit,” Padme’ declared and they made their way to the big table. Anakin looked around. Piett was helping Sola to a chair and she did indeed look glowing. Luke and Leia were flanking Zev, all three of them talking animatedly about something, while Myra and Veers seated themselves across from Anakin’s newest Admiral and his wife. Rilla ensconced herself by Leia, and Padme’ came to his side as Obi-wan sat at the foot of the table between Piett and Rilla.

All was right with his world……..

  
  


******

……..Anakin sat up in bed, and bent his head over his knees taking deep breaths. 

_ Kriff _ .

He’d thought the nightmares were bad. But this….

_ Force _ this was an agony he didn’t know how to bear. To be faced with a life as it could have been. If the Empire had never existed. If  _ Palpatine _ hadn’t existed. Where people stood against corruption. Where the Jedi weren’t so foolish as to disallow love and families. 

He put his face in his hands. Behind his eyes he could see her as clearly as in his dream--content and happy, raising their two beautiful children together.

A world where Veers didn’t lose his soft spoken, sweet wife, and his fun loving, passionate son.

A world where Piett wasn’t alone, where he had a family he adored, and who adored him. 

A world where Anakin hadn’t killed his friend and brother….

He felt hot tears sliding behind his hands and down his face. 

A world where he hadn’t harmed his  _ wife _ . Where he’d been there for the birth of their twins.

Anakin Skywalker sobbed for it all---wisps of smoke, gone with his waking. 

Then. 

_ Father? _

_ It’s all right, Luke. A bad…..well, not bad exactly. A difficult dream. _

_ I’m sorry I’m not there. I’m still happy to talk. _

_ Thank you, son. _

_ Father, is everything all right? I felt….. _

_ His gratitude that his daughter even cared to reach out…. _

_ It will be alright, my daughter. A dream.  _

_ Thank you both.  _

  
  


He rose and dressed, still fighting not to feel warm summer sun, and hear the sounds of the lake washing the shore. 

He walked through the corridors.

<Dark one? You are troubled.>

He smiled at her concern.

<I am, Lady. It is unfortunately, not something you can fix.>

<Have you talked to other humans? The ones who care for you?>

<I have spoken with Luke and Leia thank you, Lady.>

<There are more than your progeny who care about you, Dark one.>

<I’m going to walk for a while, Lady.>

<My Admiral is on the bridge, she told him.>

Well. He was heading that direction anyway.

The doors hissed open to a calm and quiet night shift. Piett turned as he entered and immediately gave him an inquiring look.

_ Cause for concern? _

Anakin shook his head as he strode down the familiar walkway, nodding to some ‘sirs’ that greeted him. He had to fight hard against the ghosts of childish laughter and adoring eyes for a father as he looked at Piett. 

_ I’ve already accepted that I’m outranked by my children. _

“Is…..everything all right, my Lord? You seem….distracted.”

“Thank you, Admiral, I….”

_ Ani….They're family, we even like them! _

“I am troubled with regret,” he settled on quietly, and looked at Piett whose eyes held compassion for that. “And sleep can be a terrible thing.”

“Yes, my Lord,” the Admiral agreed, turning back to the stars, “but you are not alone with that trouble.” He glanced at him. “Shall I order you a caf? You are always welcome here.”

Anakin smiled and suddenly felt his heart ease slightly.

Luke. Leia. The Lady. His Admiral. 

He would never have the family as he might have wished it could be. 

But he was not alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep this was a bit rough to write. I would love to keep them all in that happy warm world with family bbqs and lake swims but that is not the path they were given so....
> 
> Being that it's me though, I briefly considered ending it earlier with deep despair and found I couldn't quite do that to our people. There's plenty of hopelessness out there. I'd rather have some glimmers of hope. :)


	70. Yavin Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks to Morwen_of_Gondor for the prompt. How did Veers deal with crashing on Yavin 4 during the first Death Star battle?
> 
> This is my take on it! :)

Veers pushed the mijel beans around listlessly with his fork, and gazed out the huge viewport overlooking this part of the city. Even though he couldn’t see the Senate or the old Imperial Palace from here, Coruscant still made him deeply uncomfortable. 

He had accepted many years ago that he would need to come here on occasion, but even with large segments of time in between, he still passionately hated the capitol planet. 

Now that the New Republic had taken it, he had found himself here more often in the last two years than any of his other trips from his entire career combined. He had very much hoped to avoid it for years to come, but there was no way he was going to abandon Piett here by himself. 

He saw her in the reflection of the window, backlit by the setting sun, and he turned to look into the room as she approached his table.

“Is….?” he began, a stab of fear going through him, even though he knew all was fine, it was nothing to worry about.

“Oh no, nothing new,” she said with an impatient sigh, sitting across from him and leaning her chin in her hands. “However, I was all but shooed out of the waiting area by an overly grandmotherly nurse who thought I needed to go eat something ‘sweetie’.”

Veers chuckled. 

“To be fair, that might be a welcome change from being recognized right away,” he said, raising an eyebrow at her.

She smiled ruefully at him. “There is that, General. I just…..I’m not nervous, I know this is routine in many ways, but my stomach doesn’t agree with that assessment.”

_ He understood that. _

“Yes, and hospital food the galaxy over seems to specialize in leaving out the salt,” he told her with a grimace.

A little order droid buzzed over, reminding him of nothing so much as an overeager puppy as it displayed a menu pad to the princess.

“Just a frothy caf, with vanilla,” she told it, “thank you!” She put her hand out and then withdrew it quickly as the droid zipped away with a happy little chirp. 

Veers grinned at her. “You nearly gave it a pat didn’t you?”

She blushed. “I did.  _ Stars _ . I must be tired.”

He shook his head. “It’s all right. I was reminded of a puppy as well.”

They were silent for a moment and then met each other’s eye again.

Veers snorted. “This is getting ridiculous you know, your highness. He would make a great deal of justified fun of both of us, for this worrying, if he were here.”

“Then we tell him that we spent the whole time having a terrific dinner in the city, and we ended the evening with…..what would be believable for us?” she asked, without batting an eye.

“We found a shooting range?” Veers suggested.

“Yes. And I won.”

“Mmmm….no. Tie?”

“Not believable. You won with the rifle, and I won with the blaster?”

He sighed. “Deal.”

Piett was finally having the surgery on his knee that Henley had been threatening him with for years. Recent events* had led to it being necessary, and so they had travelled to Coruscant for it. Henley had insisted that the most current and cutting edge methods and technology were there. He himself would be assisting during the process, but the top expert in this field was taking point on the surgery. 

Piett had naturally been intensely reluctant to spend any time on Coruscant, and wondered if they could do the surgery on the Lady. Henley had then wondered if Piett wanted to walk properly again and without pain. He and the Admiral spent a few minutes trying to make the other spontaneously combust.

Piett had actually had to weigh that for a while--- so deeply did he hate the idea of the capitol planet. He had gone so far as to request Veers to come up from the bay to meet him in the conference room to get his opinion. 

_ “Firmus, you know I understand your hatred of the place. But look at you right now! You’re limping around and that is not nearly effective when you want to rant.” _

_ An eye roll from his friend. _

_ “Thanks, Max. I just…..Henley would do a decent job here…” _

_ “Yes, a  _ **_decent_ ** _ job. Firmus, it should tell you a great deal that the largest ego in the known galaxy has admitted that he is not the best doctor for this job.” _

_ The Admiral paused, placed his hands behind his back, and nailed his friend with that direct look. _

_ “Do you think I ought to go there then, and do what he says?” _

_ “Yes, friend of mine, I do. I do not say that lightly. And frankly, don’t tell Henley, I said this, but I don’t think he’s saying it lightly either. He wants you to get the best care possible. This is not him wanting to be recognized for achievements, or he would take point.” _

_ Piett let out a breath, and gave a small nod. _

_ “All right then.” _

_ “What does the princess say?” _

_ “I was going to chat to her after you.” _

_ It turned out what the princess had to say was that she would accompany him. Obviously, Veers would as well.  _

So here they were, two hours into the four hour procedure, and both of them already wanted to climb walls. 

“I can’t go back to the waiting area,” her highness declared, as the little droid returned with her frothy caf. Veers stopped it to order one for himself.

“Well….I don’t think we have time to give credence to our lie now,” he said. 

She looked up suddenly from taking a sip. “What am I thinking? Here I have you---a wealth of stories---and I haven’t taken the opportunity.”

_ Well that could go all sorts of different places…. _

“Within reason…” he told her cautiously. 

The princess smiled at him. “You said once, that you were shot down over Yavin which is why you weren’t on the Death Star when it blew, thank the Force.”

_ And that was amusing to hear from her lips even now. Her gratitude that the Imperial General had escaped death would have been unthinkable several years ago. It warmed him to know she valued him as she did. _

“Yes,” he said. “Happily, most of your forces had evacuated.”

“Has it occurred to you, General, that had things gone differently you and I might have met quite a bit sooner?”

“Not in circumstances I’d care to think about your highness.”

He would not have wanted to be taken alive at that point. Still angry at the universe over Zev’s death and hating the Rebels, he would have fought to the death then. He would not share that with this slim rebel princess before him, whom he was admittedly rather fond of now. 

“Well. That is true. Can you tell me how you survived?”

He considered her. He had given a bare outline of this story to Piett once, when he and the Admiral were getting to know each other. 

“You do realize that the Rebellion is the enemy in this story, your highness?”

“I can handle it, General.” She grinned at him.

“Very well.”

****

Of course his shuttle had hit part of the swamp. This was one of Veers many thoughts (among the unprintable ones) as he struggled to make it out of the twisted and smoking metal. He landed up to his waist in the fetid water, and had to adjust to the smells and feel. 

He had dealt with many types of terrain in his career, but ones that dealt primarily with water were always his least favorite. He moved very carefully toward the front of the shuttle to check and see if the pilots had made it. 

One was nowhere to be seen and Veers wondered if they had been flung out into the watery swamp.

The other was slumped over and clearly dead, judging by the head wound. He checked for life anyway, and then moved back around to see if he could find any useful supplies to help him survive this wretched moon and its wretched Rebel inhabitants. 

He could hear strange hooting noises in the trees.  _ Some sort of indigenous monkey then? _

He didn’t know much about Yavin 4. He was coming here after all, to rendezvous with the Death Star. Tarkin’s foul genocide weapon. He would rather be somewhere else, but the Empire wanted him here and he was their property at the moment. He had nothing else to live for after all. 

_ [She placed her hand on his. “I’m so sorry, General.” _

_ He gave her a small smile. “Thank you, princess.”] _

But something had happened. He could see occasional fireworks overhead. Imperial troops wouldn’t be setting those off. It also gave him the disquieting thought that the Rebels were rather close. He would need to be very careful indeed.

He was reasonably sure his pilots had sent the distress signal before they crashed. He had already checked---his comm was worthless. He would have to hope that he was important enough for the Empire to retrieve. Otherwise he would steal a Rebel ship or die trying----he had no intention of spending his days marooned on this rock. 

Veers found his blaster and a small field kit which contained a single use supply of bacta, bandages and antibiotics. Not much, but it was something. The real concern he had was water as there was no way in the galaxy that he was attempting to drink what he was standing in. 

Speaking of which….He slogged toward what looked like more solid ground. He knew the moon was fairly tropical in its atmosphere but he had been under the impression that there was more than swamp. He certainly hoped so anyway.

His hopes were confirmed that it was more solid ground than swamp, despite the sludge of mud. He’d take that over being waist deep in  _ that _ water anytime. 

So then. Communication was key. He would need to find a Rebel group and overpower them, take their communications and get a rescue team to his position. Simple right?

_ Interesting definition of simple there, Veers. _

Got any better ideas? He told the voice in his head.

_ A sigh. Not really, no.  _

Well.

In the fading evening light, he tried to orient himself north. It had also not escaped him that he would need to find shelter, and he wasn’t quite sure how big or predatory the various native species were on this moon. He wasn’t particularly worried about the monkeys and decided the trees would be a better defensive position than the ground where both animals  _ and _ Rebels could find him.

He found one that seemed to have broad branches intersecting with the trunk a ways up the tree. He tucked the blaster in his belt and grasped the lower branches to swing himself up. 

_ [“Correct me if I’m wrong,” said the princess, “but didn’t you make the Admiral climb the tree when you did those planetary exercises because, and I quote, ‘he was so much better at it’?” _ _   
  
_

_ Veers grinned at her disapproving face. _

_ “He did it didn’t he?” _

_ “Why didn’t you take that position?” she asked, primly. _

_ “When he is running the drills, he can have me climb the trees,” he responded. “Now did you want to hear how I escaped the nefarious Rebels or not?” _

_ She laughed. “Fine, tell me more of your daring and cunning plan.”] _

At last he made it to his target, and settled himself as comfortably as could be expected if one was to spend a night in a tree. 

It was not pleasant and he didn’t get much sleep. At one point, something reptilian brushed his face with a wing as it flew by. Too big for a bat, but he wasn’t aware of what else it could be. Zev would have known. Zev with his love for all animals, even the lethal ones, and who could tell him what they liked to eat and their native habitats…..no. Thinking about his dead son was not helping the situation at the moment. He was going to survive this and get off this moon, and then go and hunt down the Rebellion like the good little soldier he was. 

Morning light roused him and he realized that he must have nodded off at some point. What really got his blood pumping however, were the  _ voices _ approaching his position. 

“.....what the point is when we blew it up? We’re leaving this hot house in a few days anyway. Let any Imps left here, rot.”

“I don’t know that I’d wish that even on the Imps,” said another voice.

“What about Vader?”

“Well…..you have a point there.”

And two Rebels came into view below him, blaster rifles in ready positions. Veers stayed as still as possible, and blessed the Imperial forces for choosing grey/green for the uniform.

“Tydlek said he tracked a downed shuttle over here.”

“Yeah, but this is my  _ point _ . This is the swamp. It’s probably sunk by now, but here we are with the delightful mud and insects and Force knows what else, on a futile search.”

Veers was reasonably sure that if they looked up at just the right angle he would be visible. Also, did Imperial stormtroopers complain this much while on missions? He would need to look into addressing that in training.  _ He _ had spent the night in a tree, half his uniform soaked and smelling of swamp.

_ On the other hand….. _

He could follow them. They would get back to their base or their transport at some point. That was his best shot at getting to a comlink.

He waited until they had moved well ahead, and then very cautiously descended the tree and began to follow them. There was one heart stopping moment when he had missed his footing and cracked a branch like a green trooper. He’d flung himself face down to the forest floor (grateful it was more forest than swamp now) and barely breathed as the two soldiers spun around and commented on it ahead. 

_ A little out of practice on ground missions there, Veers? Commented his head voice. _

_ I’d like to see you doing this, he shot back at the voice. _

_ You’re the Colonel. You should be running stealth drills. Our men are in white armor for kriff’s sake. They could use stealth training. _

_ Ok, fair point, head voice. _

At last the two Rebels turned around, having talked themselves into believing the noise was animal and he…..

_ [“Is it just me,” interrupted the princess, smiling widely, “or does the voice in your head sound remarkably like the Admiral?” _

_ “I didn’t know him then,” Veers pointed out. _

_ “No, but clearly Fate knew you needed to.” _

_ And, now he thought about it---she was right.  _

_ He grinned back. “Well, I’ll thank him for helping me out of the situation when he’s awake.”] _

There was one point when he was taking cover once more--- as the Rebels stopped to take a drink from their canteens (and what he wouldn’t give for some water now. Maybe he should surrender and then ask for a drink)---that he found himself face to face with a toothy, grinning reptile, currently blending into a branch.

His adrenaline took a mighty leap, but he contained himself and just eyed it while he waited for the two men to continue on. The creature was a master of stealth--he had time to study it and not one little muscle moved. 

He should find out what it was. Use that as an example when training his men on stealth. 

He moved on, knowing he was getting dehydrated in the oppressive, muggy humidity of the jungle. 

Then at last, he could see a small clearing ahead and two Rebel speeder bikes. 

_ [“I can skip this part if you like, your highness,” he said pausing.  _

_ “General,” she returned, “I appreciate that, but it was war. I did the same. Endor alone….” _

_ Yes, he’d heard about how effective the princess had been on the little moon.  _

_ “I do wish, you know,” he remarked, “that many things could have been different. It’s hard not to remember all the decent men and women on both sides of this, who lost their lives.” _

_ “Yes,” she replied softly. “But that is exactly what we should do----remember them. Try to keep this from happening again.” _

_ He nodded.] _

He fired twice and both men went down without a sound. He immediately finished off one of the canteens and stowed the other, taking both their blaster rifles as well. He was almost done when a shot sailed over his head into the trees beyond. 

_ There were more. Kriff.  _

He swung onto the bike and started it up, heading back into the jungle as shouts and more speeder engines sounded behind him. This was not a method of transportation that Veers used often and it felt rather suicidal in the trees. 

_ [“Oh it is,” her highness agreed. “Luke and I used them on Endor. Falling off one at speed is also not something I’d recommend.” _

_ “Was there anything you  _ **_didn’t_ ** _ do in the war, princess?” Veers asked, admiringly. _

_ “I never piloted an AT-AT,” she responded smiling.] _

The sounds of pursuit seemed fainter but Veers continued on, back into the jungle, not caring which direction as long as it was away from his enemy. But as he slowed to listen, new sounds came to his ear. 

_ Blasters. Heavier fire from….small gunships. _

It suddenly occurred to him that his shuttle would not have been the only one shot down here. There were more Imperial troops, and they were under attack. He turned the speeder in the direction of the firing and pressed the accelerator.

He had time to see a small contingent of stormtroopers (yes, the white armor was really a handicap. He would have to work on training to counter that.) under fire from both Rebel ground troops and a gunship that swooped overhead.

He maneuvered around to the Rebel position on the ground and opened fire with the speeder’s guns, mowing them down. He then steered over to the troopers.

“What division are you?” He barked, keeping an eye on the gunship as it came about.

“85th, sir” responded one, acknowledging his rank. “Who are you?”

“Colonel Veers. I was heading to the Death Star and got shot down…..hold on.”

He jerked one of his blaster rifles up as the ship came in and began firing at its engines. After the fourth shot, it smoked, and suddenly the ship veered away to disappear into the trees. 

“That…….was some nice shooting, sir,” said the trooper.

“Thanks. Hold on----the 85th was assigned to the Death Star. What in the _Force_ are you doing down here?”

Several of them looked at each other.

“You must have been shot down before it happened, sir.”

“ _ What _ happened, trooper?”

“The Death Star, sir, it…...it exploded. The only reason some of us made it is because a few of the officers recognized the structural weakness the Rebels were gunning for and started evacuating personnel.”

_ Tarkin’s horrific weapon was…..gone. Too late for Alderaan or Jedha, but…...of course all those lives on the station…. _

Veers took this in. 

“Seems to me sir, you were actually lucky to crash here.”

“That remains to be seen trooper,” Veers ground out. “We have to make it off this moon…”

“Yes sir,” piped up another man, “we’ve been in contact with a team sir, they’re coming for us. They’ll be very glad to see you, sir.”

“All right then,” Veers said looking at the small band. “We just need to hang on until they arrive. Anyone wounded?”

“Nothing serious, sir” said the first man. 

“All right, trooper. What’s your name?” Veers said, handing him one of the blaster rifles.

“It’s Havell, sir, Private First Class Havell.”

“All right Havell, let’s get these men into cover, and then figure out how to coordinate with our rescuers.”

He was bolstered to no end with the knowledge that help was coming. He had new energy now.

  
  


*****

  
  


He was silent for a moment.

“The Admiral has mentioned a…..a Sergeant Havell,” the princess said hesitantly. “Was he the same?”

“Yes,” Veers replied quietly. “Saved my life several times, the last at the cost of his own.”

“I wish I could have met him,” she told him.

Veers nodded. “He was a good man.”

“So what did you do next?”

“Well there’s not much to tell after that. Our group was mercifully out of the main skirmishes, and we were picked up by an Imperial transport about 7 hours later. And while it was deeply unpleasant, I would do it again, if it meant avoiding the Death Star.”

His data pad chimed and he looked down at the message.

“Ah. Looks like that voice in my head is done with surgery and awake. Shall we?”

They rose and made their way back to the level indicated on Veers’ pad, going through several levels of nurses and security until at last they were standing in Piett’s room, where Dr. Henley was finishing his checks.

The Admiral was quite groggy, but very happy to see them both.

“Five minutes,” said Henley, wagging a finger. “Then out. You can see him at length tomorrow.”

“Thank you, doctor,” said the princess sweetly. “Did it go well even without you in charge?”

Veers chuckled, and Piett outright snickered.

_ Oho. Yes, the Admiral was on the good drugs, which was always amusing. _

Henley was clearly wrestling with his reply---torn between the realities, and also his ego.

“They managed,” he said at last, “and after some recovery, that knee should be better than it’s been in years.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” said Veers and Henley left, muttering under his breath.

“Which means that I shall be able to use my knee to pace quite well now,” said the Admiral solemnly, and the princess smiled to come and give him a gentle hug.

“Why for pacing?” Veers asked, curious, drawing a chair up to the bed. 

“You said my ranting wasn’t as effective. Well,  _ now _ it will be,” Piett told him smugly.

Veers laughed. “Your highness, the Admiral on the good drugs is a joy and a delight.”

“I’m always a delight,” Piett admonished, pointing at the General and grinning widely, and her highness laughed as well, sharing a look with Veers.

“Yes you are, Admiral dear.”

“I  _ could _ climb trees quite well now,” Piett told her with great confidence, “but don’t mention it to Max---he  _ exploits _ that.”

“Only sometimes,” responded Veers.

“Next drill,” said the Admiral sleepily, “I will make you pilot a Star Destroyer.”

_ Yes, indeed Firmus, _ Veers thought fondly,  _ I would be happy to. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *the reason Piett needs to do this will be forthcoming in another series I'm working on where Anakin, Veers, and Piett will be chasing down slavers and pirates. Coming soon!
> 
> Also, Morwen, the server droid is for you. ;)


	71. The Blindness of Obsession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vader's obsessive quest for Luke has consequences

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes place between Sith's Men and the events of ESB

Everyone felt it. One didn’t need the Force to feel the increase of tension. Every day, every hour, every _minute_ if you were on the bridge. 

If one asked the average ensign when it had started they might shrug and point out that it was Lord Vader’s ship---of course there was always tension. 

If one asked the more experienced crew, say Sergeant Ellery for example, he would sigh and clench his jaw a bit, and say he didn’t know but to watch yourself more carefully. 

If one was brave enough to ask General Veers, he would say it was shortly after that Hand incident, and to not talk about it anymore.

If one was witless enough to ask Admiral Ozzel about it, he would wonder what tension you were talking about, he hadn’t noticed.

And if one were to ask Captain Piett about it, he would say yes, it was after the Hand incident, and just do your job to the very best of your ability without question. 

No one was stupid enough to ask Lord Vader about it. 

  
  


*****

Vader stared out of the viewport from the bridge. Somewhere amongst all the vast host of stars his son lived. His son the Rebel. The Jedi in training, though not from Obi-Wan, no, he had _killed_ …..

But from whom? And why the  _ Force _ could he never lay hands on him? It was like he had some strange protection about him.

_ Maybe he does. Maybe the Force itself does not want you to pervert your son. _

Obi-Wan’s voice in his head was so deeply irritating. 

He clenched a fist and was aware that everyone on the bridge felt the drop in temperature. Ozzel was irritated by it. Kriff the man was obtuse. Piett was admirably controlling his nerves, and moved toward his commander. Everyone else watched this move, either admiring his courage or wondering at his stupidity. 

Vader desperately wanted to promote him immediately to Admiral, but the time was not right, and Sidious would become far too curious about Death Squadron’s leadership. 

“My Lord?” Piett asked discreetly, standing at his side. “Is...there anything you would like me to do?”

Vader smiled under the mask. It was why Piett was captain of the Executor--his willingness to take direction, to notice small details and act upon them. Well, that and the Lady had insisted that he was the right man. 

“Not at the moment, Captain. You are doing all you are required.”

Which may sound cold, but Piett heard the approval and Vader felt him relax a few notches. 

“Very good, my Lord.”

Ozzel was conferring with the comms officer and approached Vader himself, smoothing his moustache importantly.

“My Lord, Captain Fraser has returned. I assume you wish to hear his report.”

“Assumptions are rather dangerous to give me,” Vader purred and enjoyed Ozzel’s swallow. “But in this case, yes, I would like that. As it happens, I would like the senior bridge crew present. Have them meet in my conference room in fifteen minutes.”

And accordingly, Vader swept into the room and motioned them all to sit with an impatient hand.

“You are all aware,” he began without preamble, “that our highest priority at the moment is to find the Rebel who destroyed the Death Star. I, and by extension, the Emperor, are becoming….displeased at this lack of progress. Admiral, you have assured me that this new approach will work.”

Ozzel nodded importantly, but Piett was looking skeptical, and the other members of the senior bridge crew merely sat still trying not to draw attention to themselves. 

“Captain Fraser,” Vader motioned to him and stepped back.

The Captain rose, trying to seem confident.

“My Lord, I took the task force to determine which planets were likely to shelter the Rebels from the systems we believe are suspect. We then sent probe droids throughout the mid-Rim sectors, and have told the system administrators that they are to report anything suspicious to the nearest Imperial naval representative. They will flag that of course, and…..”

“What of the  _ specific _ Rebel we are looking for, Captain?”

_ This was more of the same method they had already been employing…. _

Fraser looked uncertainly to Ozzel, who nodded impatiently. And of course Ozzel would have him doing the same thing they had already been trying. The man was stunningly uncreative. 

“Well, ah, my Lord, we believe that this method will eventually turn him up in our nets.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong,” Vader said menacingly.

_ And he wasn’t wrong. _

“But this is what we have already been doing. I asked for results with the Rebel pilot,  _ not _ the Rebels in general.”

“Ah, yes, well in order to…...gggkkk.”

And Fraser was clawing at his throat, as Ozzel paled. Piett closed his eyes, and Vader felt his strain and grief as the captain tried to control his emotions.

“My Lord,” he attempted, but Vader was  _ done _ with all of this incompetence, and ignored him.

He  _ wanted _ the pilot. He wanted his  _ son _ . 

  
  


****

Piett tried to tune out the awful sounds as yet another officer met his fate at the hands of Lord Vader. This was the third one in three months. Usually, yes, one of Ozzel’s lackeys, but that shouldn’t automatically condemn the men. They were following the Admiral’s orders, and if anyone was to blame it was Ozzel. But even with the Admiral, Piett had to be fair. Lord Vader was requesting the proverbial needle in a haystack with this increasingly obsessive search for the Rebel pilot. 

The room was utterly silent but for the noises of the dying man, and Piett couldn’t believe he found himself praying that Vader would just snap his neck and be merciful. With a last gurgle the unfortunate Captain dropped to the carpet and Vader turned to the rest of them.

“I am given failure after failure. This is Death Squadron. We do not have failure. Admiral,” he whirled on Ozzel, black cape billowing with foreboding. “You are no longer in charge of the search for the pilot as your complete lack of ingenuity is one of the causes for our lack of success.”

Ozzel’s face turned red with indignation.

“My Lord, I disagree, we have captured many Rebels with these methods and…..”

_ What was the man doing? Did he want them all dead? Could he not feel Lord Vader’s building rage?  _

Piett watched those black gloved hands clench, and imagined he could hear the metal inside creaking with the strength of it. 

“But not the  _ right _ Rebel, Admiral.  _ Not _ the one we are searching for.”

“Lord Vader, while you are of course skilled in the ways of the Sith….”

_ Surely not _ , Piett thought,  _ surely he’s not about to inform the commander of the fleet that he doesn’t know how to do something _ .

He was.

“....but when it comes to the subtleties of capturing Rebel spies and ….”

Immense force exploded through the room, and Piett felt himself flying back to impact against one of the large viewports with stunning potency. 

He fell to the carpet, and tried to recall how to draw air into his lungs. 

_ Was he being throttled? No. Just winded. _

He managed to at last draw in a whooping breath of air, and make it to his hands and knees. All around him, men were groaning, though two commanders were very still and silent.

_ Son of a Hutt. Three men in one meeting. How was he to stop this? Why was Lord Vader obsessing about this pilot at the cost of so many of his men? _

Vader stood silent watching all of them move back to their positions. Piett went to sit down, and a sharp stab of pain alerted him to at least one and likely more broken ribs. He sat anyway, Vader was not interested in such details. He was rather sure his head was bleeding in the back, judging from the warmth he felt under his cap, but he didn’t dare raise a hand to check. 

Piett put on his own mask and straightened his spine----kriff that hurt---to watch Vader.

Once they were seated again, that mask tilted his way.

_ Oh damn, my turn….what have I done….? _

“Captain Piett.”

“My Lord?”

“You will take over the search for this pilot, this Skywalker.”

Ozzel, despite being shaken, gave him a nasty smile, obviously sure this was a death sentence for Executor’s captain. Which, perhaps, it was. 

“Yes, my Lord,” Piett found himself answering.

“I will expect better results and methods, Captain.”

_ Oh nine hells. _

“Yes, sir.”

“Then we are done here.” 

And Vader swept from the room. 

Ozzel glared at Piett and limped his way out with a “I’ll be in sickbay, Captain, take care of this.”

Piett sighed.

“Is everyone all right? Do any of you need sickbay?”

A few men clearly did and he sent them on their way, then commed for Henley to send up medics for the dead men. As Ozzel had departed, Piett had to take the bridge and, after a brief check in the fresher to clean the blood from his head wound, he straightened his tunic and returned. 

Vader was blessedly not there, and Piett therefore allowed himself to curl a bit around the ribs as he stood at the far end of the bridge. His datapad flashed at him and the Lady was displaying Henley.

“Thank you, Lady,” he murmured, “but I can’t at the moment.”

  
  


****

Vader sliced droid after droid apart in his wrath. Since the Lady was controlling them, she made it very difficult and he appreciated it. He paused, and she sent him three more, their blasters set to the highest stun level. 

He hadn’t said to do that. He also realized that the whole room was bathed in red, it wasn’t just his mask filters. 

_ Perhaps he wasn’t the only one venting some rage? _

He put out a hand, and stopped the three droids. She sent more behind him.

<Lady? He asked. Are you angry with me?>

He stopped these droids as well. She was actually challenging him, his Lady. She opened the entire left bank of droid storage pods to send them _all_ at him.

So she was upset then. 

He strained to stop them all, discovering that he was actually tired.

<All right, Lady! You have my attention. What is it? He practically shouted.>

_ Kriff she was strong. _

<You HURT him, she accused, and he could actually hear and feel the snarl.>

<I…..hurt….>

There was only one ‘him’ for the Lady aside from himself. 

<That was not my intention. I’m sure he is fine….>

<He is NOT, she told him emphatically. He is true steel. He is making sure the others have maintenance. The Admiral has left the bridge to him.>

But Piett had risen. Perhaps a slight head wound….

<You assume too much, she argued. What is wrong with you, Dark one? You risk my  _ Captain _ in your anger?>

<I wish to find my son. They FAIL me! He told her.>

<Yes, she responded. And my Captain will do his best. Which he cannot do when you  _ break _ him.>

<Your Captain knows the risks……>

The droids from the right bank sprang to attack, and he realized with shock that she had set their blasters to  _ kill _ . 

<Lady! He shouted. Stop this!>

He strained to fight them off.

<You are allowed your….. _ expression _ of frustration, Dark one, she told him coldly. Then so am I.>

_ Son of a…. _

He put up his hands.

<I do not wish to fight you, Lady. Please stop. I will listen.>

The droids dropped to the ground.

<My Captain, she said, wishes you to command in the way you used to. As do I. He wishes to help you. But he does not know how.>

<He is doing his job as he ought.>

<He does not  _ know _ that. And you have broken him. He waits for you to kill him.>

<I wouldn’t! He told her, indignant.>

<You  _ could _ have, she said, still angry. You killed three others this day. Dark one. Be yourself once more. I do not like this.>

Vader sighed. Part of him knew she was right. Knew he was slipping into obsession. Piett was trying. Veers as well. Ozzel was….mostly a blot on the universe.

<What would you have me do, Lady? He asked her.>

<In this moment, I would have you take my bridge so that my Captain may be repaired.>

_ Had it been that bad? _

<I would have you apologize, she continued.>

He…...was not sure how to do  _ that _ .

<I will go to the bridge, Lady.>

<Now.>

_ Force _ , who was in charge here?

Vader went to the bridge.

As he appeared in the atrium, he felt the entire crew stiffen in fear. Piett was in his usual position, and straightened immediately as he saw his commander. Vader watched the flash of pain on his face, before the Captain smoothed it away.

“My Lord,” he said as Vader approached, and he put a hand to the bulkhead.

“Captain.” Vader studied him. Likely broken ribs. 

“Where is Admiral Ozzel?”

Piett was pale, but as always, stalwart.

“He ah, needed to confer with Dr. Henley, my Lord.”

“That was three hours ago, I believe, Captain.”

“Yes my Lord. He had a sprained wrist I believe, but it should do well, the Doctor says.”

A sprained wrist. While the Captain…..

<Dark one, he does not know----his lung.>

Even as Vader watched, Piett’s breathing was becoming more shallow.

_ I’m sorry, Piett. _

“Come with me, Captain.”

Half the bridge crew looked up in fear at that.  _ They thought he would kill him. _

“My Lord…..” Piett trailed off, and accepted his fate. “Commander, you have the bridge.”

“And have Admiral Ozzel return,” Vader commanded, turning to stride back down the walkway, feeling Piett follow him.

Once they were in the corridor, Vader paused to allow Piett to come up beside him.

“What, ah, did you wish to see me about, my Lord?” Piett asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

“I wish for you to go to Doctor Henley and get seen, Captain.”

Vader motioned to the turbolift near them. Piett raised his eyebrows. 

“My Lord, I am….”

“If you tell me you are fine, Piett, I will  _ know _ you are lying.” 

Piett straightened, and then couldn’t stop the contortion in his face at the movement.

Vader decided that he could show the man he was sorry even if he could not say the words.

Without saying anything, he moved to take his arm and both of them stepped into the lift.

“I’m….not sure…..what’s wrong,” Piett panted. “I apologize….”

The lights in the lift flashed red.

_ I’m working on it, Lady.  _

“If I had to guess, Captain, your lung is punctured, so it is urgent you see the Doctor. It is not you who needs to apologize.”

He felt Piett’s surprise, and allowed the Captain to lean heavily against him.

<Is that the best you can do, Dark one? She asked, unimpressed.>

<At the moment? Yes. He understands.>

<He is far more forgiving than I am, she told him, displeased.>

Vader supported the Captain to Henley who gave him a glare almost as potent as the one he felt from the Lady.

“I have been hoping you would have the sense to see me, Captain,” he clipped as he steered Piett to a bed and had a medic come over. 

“It was not Captain Piett’s fault that he has not come sooner, Doctor,” Vader told him, “It was mine.”

“Yes it was,” said Henley stiffly, as Piett gaped at him in between trying to breathe. “As this is the best Captain we’ve had, do you think you could manage  _ not _ to damage him?”

Vader felt the Lady’s approval of Henley. Piett stared at the Doctor in shock.

“He is,” Vader agreed, “and…..I will try, Doctor.”

He felt Piett’s gratitude. “Thank you….my Lord.”

Henley wheeled on him. “Stop talking for kriff’s sake. We need to repair that lung, not make it worse.”

<Does that satisfy you, Lady? He asked as he left the sickbay.>

<Dark one, she said sadly, it is good that you brought him to the Doctor. But things are far from  _ satisfactory _ .>

He knew she was right, deep within himself. But he could not stop. He would not, until he found his son. 


	72. Anakin is bored

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One of you lovely people requested that Anakin, the Lady and Artoo coordinate a prank on Veers and Piett. This is that prompt and I thank you for it! ;)

Piett reflected much later that he probably should have seen it coming. His Lordship had been on the Lady for a whole week recovering from an experimental flight gone wrong (insane space jockeys. He recalled several instances when his commander had done things like this in his suit as well. Some things never changed) and Skywalker wasn’t there to entertain him. 

Thus, Lord Vader had been left to his own devices. Which had never in the history of his existence been a good thing. 

**  
  
**

****

Anakin loathed boredom. He needed to be active or building or flying. He was feeling quite recovered ( _ Henley _ !) and yet was barred from most of his favorite activities because of reasons he had tuned out when Henley was explaining them. 

Artoo bumped him. 

[What is wrong?] the little droid asked him. [Do you miss Luke Skywalker?]

[Yes, Anakin replied, but it is more that I have nothing to do Artoo, and that is not natural to me.]

But suddenly, Anakin realized that he  _ could _ have something to do. He remembered driving Kenobi around the galaxy with a few pranks….

<Lady? He asked. I have some ideas on how to entertain myself. Would you like some more lessons on humor?>

<He sensed her doubt. I am not sure, Dark one. My Admiral and the Loyal one were not best pleased at some of those expressions.>

<Ah, but they did enjoy porg Madine correct?>

<Yes…...she replied doubtfully, but General Veers was most displeased with the orange AT-AT.>

<We won’t do anything on that scale, Lady, he told her.>

<But I have learned much already about humor from the Loyal one and the Blue one.>

Anakin grinned. 

<And now you can learn from the Master.>

Artoo rocked eagerly.

****

Piett was down in the Pit the first time it happened. One of the lieutenants was showing him the latest data on likely Imperial supply lines, when he saw it at eye level on the walkway above him. 

A pink mouse droid.

He blinked and it trundled happily along, its tiny wheels whirring away toward comms. 

“What……?”

“Sir?” the lieutenant asked, confused.

“Did you happen to see…?” He looked again and there was no mouse droid to be seen.

“Never mind. Carry on, lieutenant.”

He knew that he hadn’t slept very well but it wasn’t that bad surely? It wasn’t as though he was in battle mode or the horrific days of Bespin.

Piett ordered more tea and climbed out of the Pit to complete his slow stroll around the bridge. As he approached the defense station, he saw something pink out of the corner of his eye and whipped his head over just in time to see a pink mouse droid zip behind the holopad. 

_ Force. He shouldn’t pay it any mind.  _

_ But it was on the bridge. _

Piett moved toward the area and a normal black mouse droid moved by his feet, giving him a tiny chirp as it did so. He scanned the area. Nothing else.

“Sir?” asked the comms officer.

Piett rose from his crouch to whack his head against the bulkhead.

“ _ Stars _ . Yes, commander?”

“Were….were you looking for something sir?”

PIett straightened his tunic. If he was going insane he would do so as unobtrusively as possible. 

“Just checking the holopad, commander, carry on.”

And Piett moved back up the walkway, hoping to the nine hells he didn’t see it again. 

**  
  
**

****

Veers set his blaster down on his desk after cleaning it, and moved out into the bay to begin the timing drills for his men to ascend the AT-ATs and have them ready for combat.

Most of his crews were doing well, but there was a lot of polish to be done.With the sort of conflicts they faced these days, there was not a call for the vast numbers of the Herd which had occurred under the Empire. 

Veers was working on new tactics with smaller groups, and speed of deployment was crucial.

After several hours of good work, he dismissed his men and moved back to his office to type up his notes. 

It took him a few seconds to realize that his blaster was missing. 

_ Had he set it somewhere else? He didn’t remember locking it in the drawer, but maybe….no. _

He walked back out to the bay, but he knew he would never just set it down somewhere out there. Surely someone hadn’t felt free enough to just take it from his office?

He went back in. The blaster sat innocently where he had left it.

_ Son of a Hutt. Did he need an eye check? _

Veers had utterly no desire to see Henley. He must have just…..overlooked it. He placed it in the drawer, locked it and went to his meeting with Lord Vader and Piett.

***

Piett was early (and he liked it that way) for the meeting and sat in his usual spot at the table in Lord Vader’s conference room. He reviewed the points he thought his commander would prefer to hear first, and then scanned over the more minor things. He doubted his lordship would want to hear the minutia---he never had after all. On the other hand, he may already know it, as he liked to say to his Admiral.

_ I know everything that happens on this ship, Piett. _

Admittedly, Piett was a little puzzled that Lord Vader wanted this meeting. He had been on the Lady for nearly two weeks now----surely he  _ knew _ most of this. 

A flash in his peripheral vision. 

_ No. Surely not again. And not  _ **_now_ ** _. _

As his eyes grew wide in horrified wonder, a pink mouse droid trundled from over by the potted ferns and made its casual way to the conference table, disappearing beneath it.

Piett immediately ducked his head under the table. He could hear it whirring, where was it?

“Did you drop something, Admiral?”

_ Could he just request the man to wear the respirator again so he could have some warning? _

“Ah…..no, my Lord.” Piett met inquiring blue eyes. “Just….nothing of importance.”

“Very well then.” Vader sat next to him as the doors opened to admit Veers. “Ah General….”

“Sir!” A young ensign came running up behind Veers. “Sir, I was told to deliver this to you. Sergeant Ellery said he found it on some crates in Hangar 12.”

And he handed the General his blaster. Veers stared at it for a moment. “Did Sergeant Ellery say anything else, Ensign? How did it get there?”

The poor ensign quailed under the fierce grey glare.

“I…...I don’t know anything else, sir. Sorry, sir.”

“Very well, dismissed, Ensign. Thank you.”

Veers came into the room looking very concerned.

“What’s going on?” Piett asked him. 

“I think someone may be tampering with my office.”

“To what end?” asked Lord Vader.

“This is the second time that my blaster hasn’t been where I left it. The first time could be considered my own memory. But this one…..I locked it in my desk drawer. I know I did.”

“What are you thinking, Veers?” Piett asked. 

His friend sat down on his other side. “I’m thinking someone has been accessing my office who shouldn’t be, but that takes more than average skill sets and the people who  _ have _ access wouldn’t do that. Firmus, could the Lady show us security footage of the area for 1300 and around 1420?”

“Lady?” Piett asked, looking up and she obliged, powering up the holo recording for them.

They all scrutinized the footage carefully.

“I don’t see….wait.” Piett had spotted something. “Lady back it up four seconds. There.”

He looked over at his commander. “Is it just me or does that look remarkably like an astromech droid we all know, zipping in behind Veers?”

Lord Vader sighed and placed his head in his hand. 

“It does indeed, Admiral.”

“My Lord…..”

“Yes, Veers I know. I thought he had gone with Luke. My apologies. I will speak to him about this.”

“The last time the little blight was left loose, I ended up with an orange AT-AT.”

“Yes, General. I shall deal with him. Now, if we could proceed with the meeting?”

He turned to Piett who was trying to pretend that a headache was  _ not _ creeping up on him. 

“Yes, my Lord.”

And he began to deliver the pertinent information crisply, when something bumped his boot under the table and then, as he continued speaking, the thrice damned pink mouse droid appeared once again from under the table, heading toward the far side of the room.

_ It’s not there. It’s not real and I am giving this report if it kills me. _

It began to do a happy little circle over on the carpet, and he stumbled over his words.

“Admiral?”

“Firmus? Is something wrong?”

He glanced at both of them and then back to where……

It was gone. 

“I thought I saw….I’m so sorry. Just a headache.”

His lordship was quite solicitous. 

“We can do this a different time, Piett if you need….”

_ He was not some wilting flower. _

“No sir, I can finish. Apologies.”

And he did, as did Veers with no more droid sightings. 

_ What the kriff was going on? _

****  
  


***

Veers finished his last report and turned off his computer. He reached for the blaster he had left next to him.

_ No. Unbelievable.  _

He jerked his head up to look out his window in time to see a small blue dome disappear around the bay doors into the corridor. 

Nine hells. He was going to use his own walker to step on it.  _ How _ had it done that?

Veers came to his feet and moved swiftly out of the office and across the bay. He didn’t run, because Generals do not do that, but he was walking very quickly…..

…..in time to see the droid enter a lift.

He noted the deck it was heading to and found the next closest lift to punch in the same number. Oh, Skywalker was going to get an earful about this. Had he never heard of restraining bolts? Not to mention the droid was trundling around with a  _ blaster _ . What if he fired it? Oh  _ Force… _ ..

Veers willed the lift to go faster, and exited into the corridor. He looked up and down.

_ Damn it where was it? _

He picked a direction and moved off. 

****

Piett was nearly done with his shift and no more pink mouse droids had shown up. He knew he was slightly on edge, and the bridge crew were giving him uncertain looks when they thought he didn’t notice. 

He heaved a huge sigh of relief when the doors opened to admit Kelly who was coming to relieve him….

…….followed by a small pink mouse droid at his heels.

He watched it all the way down the walkway, bringing his eyes up to meet the Captain’s as he stopped in front of his Admiral. 

“Sir? Is something….?” Kelly looked around, and Piett did as well. A black mouse droid moved away.

_ Sithspit. Something was wrong with him. _

“Not at all, Kelly. You, ahem, you have the bridge.”

“Yes, sir, I have the bridge.”

Piett was  _ not _ fleeing the bridge, he  _ wasn’t. _

The doors hissed shut behind him, and he paused in the corridor to pinch the bridge of his nose. 

_ Who could he ask about this? Henley would run all sorts of tests and likely take him off duty. Veers would get concerned and pretend not to worry. The princess. And she had the Force, maybe she could….. _

A pink mouse droid zipped by him, paused and turned. It chirped at him and then set off once more.

_ Kriffing hell that was it. He was getting to the bottom of this. Who had come up with mouse droids anyway? What was even their  _ **_point_ ** _? _

He followed it swiftly, keeping it in sight and hoping against hope that he didn’t look too manic to the crew that he passed.

_ Admiral Piett--finally lost it after all those years serving a Sith Lord with a taste for strangling people with his weird mystical powers…. _

A set of doors hissed open, and he followed the pink atrocity inside.

_ He would get to the bottom of this and then he was going to the range because…...because…… _

“Ah, Admiral. Excellent. Come have a seat.”

Lord Vader was standing by a table in the lounge---he was in the officer’s lounge----and the pink mouse droid had stopped at his feet. His lordship smiled and held out a glass. 

Piett tried to put his scattered wits back together, but didn’t get an opportunity as an angry voice sounded behind him.

“......saw you come in here, and don’t pretend you’re one of the server bots, you little scourge of the galaxy…..”

Veers came into sight as did Artoo, his little arm holding…..a blaster. 

He hustled over to his commander and budged himself up behind Lord Vader’s leg with a *beep.

Veers froze at his side. 

“General, good of you to join us. Drink?”

And Piett was able to operate once more as a functioning human.

“You…... _ you _ put them up to this?” he demanded, getting his hands on his hips.

His lordship grinned and waved a hand. The mouse droid turned black, then back to pink.

“Why is there a pink mouse droid, Firmus?” asked Veers. 

“Apparently, Max,” said Piett in his loftiest tones, turning to his friend so as to avoid the utterly infuriating expression on his commander’s face, “there is a pink mouse droid because I decided to join the Imperial Navy where I was then recruited by Lord Vader. That’s the only reason I can think of.”

“You didn’t decide--they wanted you.”

“I  _ agreed _ ,” Piett told him, not turning to look at the man and addressing himself to Veers. “Which in retrospect was the greatest mistake of my life as it has led to this moment.”

His lordship actually snickered. 

“Piett, you being offended is always worth watching. Come and have a drink, you likely need it.”

“I do need it, my Lord,” he replied with dignity as he moved to the table and he may have kicked at the mouse droid as he passed, “I have been wondering if I was losing my mind.”

Veers finally found speech himself.

“Are you saying,” he paused to take the glass from Lord Vader’s hand and snatched his blaster from Artoo who trilled and wobbled turning his ‘eye’ between his lordship and the General. “That you put this droid up to stealing my blaster?”

The lights flashed overhead as well.

“ _ Force _ , Lady” groaned Piett, “et tu? My Lord,” he said pleadingly, “what in the nine hells made you corrupt my ship even further?”

“For that matter, what did  _ we _ do to deserve such delightful attention?” Veers asked, sinking into a chair while Piett took a large swallow. It was excellent brandy.

“I was bored,” answered the man, brightly.

_ And if that wasn’t the most dangerous thing Piett could ever hear…. _

“ _ Bored _ ,” mouthed Veers, and downed his glass impressively in one go.

“Come, gentlemen, you’ve never pulled pranks on your friends?” the ex-Sith asked, blue eyes shining with all sorts of hellish merriment.

“I work for you!” Piett exclaimed, finishing his drink.

“Are you saying this is how you express friendship, my Lord?” Veers asked dryly.

Piett was hit by a stunning realization. 

“When you were still in the suit…...and there was the day I kept losing my data pad all over the bridge…. a few months before Endor, and you finally told me to go to my quarters because I  _ clearly needed the rest _ ….that was  _ you _ , wasn’t it?”

“You did need the rest. It worked didn’t it?”

Piett sat back as though winded. “ _ Force _ . I was pranked by Darth Vader.”

Veers looked as though someone had hit him over the head.

“Technically you have been again. And here you both are, having drinks.”

“I need another round,” Max said, rubbing his face. 

“My Lord, I’m very glad you consider us friends, but if we are to remain that way, perhaps you could avoid undermining my sanity?” Piett asked, removing his hat tiredly. 

Anakin Skywalker grinned at them both and ordered more drinks. 


	73. Almost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Piett carries out his plan to catch Luke Skywalker at the behest of Lord Vader. It ALMOST works---now the question is---will Lord Vader let him live?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had some lovely feedback from some of you dear folks about this time period and wanting more. Which immediately triggered two more one shot ideas for me, so here is the first one! :) Thank you!

They were the closest they had ever been to capturing Luke Skywalker. 

Piett gazed at the dark haired pilot glaring defiantly at him as the troopers cuffed his hands behind his back. 

“I won’t tell you anything!” he spat.

“We didn’t capture you to interrogate you,” Piett told him calmly. “You are serving a greater purpose, Captain Antilles.”

The man stared at him for a moment. “You…...you….this whole engagement was to get me?”

“Yes and no.”   
  


_ Piett had been planning this for three months. He knew every step in his sleep, which admittedly, didn’t happen too much these days. _

_ Lord Vader had tasked him with heading up the search for Skywalker. Ozzel’s methods were----’outdated’ was a kind way to put it.  _

_ Piett had studied the man---boy really---rather than focusing on how Imperial military might could bring him to bay.  _

_ Luke Skywalker had lots of friends it seemed, but he was closest to Wedge Antilles, Han Solo, and the Rebel princess according to the latest intel. And he was precisely the sort to come in guns blazing, to save his friends. (To be fair, Piett could understand that.) _

_ Solo was unpredictable and difficult to pin down. The princess…...Piett had personal qualms about that. The girl who had lost her whole world...her holo image stared at him, brown eyes like his sister’s….And of course she was also ridiculously difficult to get to these days---always surrounded by troops or her friends. _

_ Antilles, however….. _

_ He flew with Rogue squadron and thus, could be counted on to be present in numerous engagements. And if a tempting enough target presented itself---say, a sparsely defended Imperial station that could be useful to the Rebel fleet---they would send their best pilots.  _

And they had. Skywalker hadn’t been on this mission, but he had expected that, from the rest of his current intel. Piett had sprung his trap---the Rebels did not expect six Victory class Star Destroyers. They were soundly beaten, and Antilles’ craft had been tractored onto the station, along with its very angry pilot.

“Are you injured?” Piett asked the man before him.

“Why do you care?” Antilles snarled.

Piett sighed. Yes, he was sure that all Imperials were painted as nasty, child eating monsters in the closet by the Rebels.

“Contrary to your propaganda, Captain, we are not all Corellian demons. Are you injured?”

“No,” said Antilles, staring at him in puzzlement now. “Who are you?”

“That is not your concern,” Piett responded. “Take him to the cells and make sure he is treated well. I will know if he is not. Alert General Veers that we captured Antilles and tell him to proceed.”

He was confident though, in these men--they would obey orders. He and Veers had chosen them together, trained with them. Veers himself was waiting in the wings for the star event they hoped would be happening. 

Piett holstered his blaster as Antilles was taken away. 

The word would have gone out to the rest of the Rebel fleet. It was now a matter of waiting. He had ordered their own ships to jump away once more. He wanted the Rebels to believe that Antilles was being held on the station, and had communicated that broadly so that the enemy ships could pick that up. He let the word go out that they were waiting for a ship to come and get the pilot (which was admittedly, somewhat true). And accordingly, some hours later, his patience was rewarded. 

“Sir!” one of the troopers came up to him. “Rebel ships approaching. Several squadrons of fighters, one light cruiser, and two troop ships sir.”

_ Could it actually be happening? Were they actually going to catch Luke Skywalker and end this Force damned obsession of Lord Vader’s? _

“Excellent,” Piett replied, turning, “Have the command center fire at them and make sure not to cause any real damage. I’ll be heading there if you need me. We will let them think they have the upper hand….”

Something flickered at the corner of his eye and he instinctively reached for his blaster before a terrific force crashed into the side of his head

****

Consciousness returning was like the flickering of a bad comms signal. 

“......might need a medic….”

“......Imps…...and I was just doing what…..”

“Franx you’re a moron…….need him alive…..”

Piett became fully aware, and for a few minutes just caught his breath. He was seated, and his hands were cuffed rather uncomfortably behind him. HIs ankles were secured to the chair as well. 

_ Kriff what did they think he was? A master agent? _

He opened his eyes. And nothing changed. 

Piett had a brief moment of panic that the blow to the head had blinded him, before he realized that he was  _ blindfolded _ and he had to calm his frantic heart. 

“I’m just saying, you said to knock him out, and I  _ did, _ and now I’m getting all sorts of bantha poodu about it.”

“Because you could have  _ killed _ him with a hit like that.  _ Force _ , look at all the blood!”

“Head wounds bleed like that. He’ll be fine. A few stitches.”

“Franx, you’re rather a bastard, you know that?”

_ So he had this Franx to thank for the terrific headache.  _

“He’s an  _ Imp _ . Why do you care?”

“Because,  _ private _ , he’s actually a good man and I like the guy, all right?”

_ Why would he say that? As though he knew Piett? _

“Where’s Skywalker?”

And Piett forgot his headache.  _ The pilot was here! The elusive young man who had blown up the Death Star _

“He’s getting Antilles.”

“What do we do with this lot then?”

“I say shoot them all,” this was Franx. And Piett decided that he needed to let them know he was awake. He needed to know if his men were alive.

“Don’t…..don’t….kill my men,” he managed. 

Several startled exclamations.

“Well, good to have you back with us, Captain Piett.”

“You…..know who I am?”

A chuckle. “I ought to after serving with you for five months.”

A chill swept over him.

“A traitor….?” he began angrily.

“No, Captain, a spy. Which is worse to you I wonder?”

“How did you get on this detail?” Piett asked. He was going to die, one way or another, he’d like to know why his meticulously careful planning had failed. 

“I volunteered. Oh don’t worry, your planning was excellent, but so were my credentials. And because your plan to catch Skywalker was looking to be much more effective, I decided that it was time for me to come out of deep cover. You made it difficult,  _ Force _ .”

The speaker sounded almost admiring. 

“Not revealing where we were going until we departed made things a challenge. I couldn’t prevent Skywalker from coming here, but I could warn them when we arrived.”

_ Kriffing hell. To be so close. If the Rebels didn’t kill him, Lord Vader would. But he had to try…. _

“If you let my men go, I’ll come with you without a struggle.”

A sneer, no doubt from Franx.

“You’ll come with us if they’re dead or not, Imp.”

Piett swallowed this. “Whoever you are, spy, if you’ve worked with me you know I mean it. I’m asking you to spare my men. Do what you will with me.”

“Captain, I have to say I admire you a great deal. You do know we could just shoot them, though. A few less Imps.”

“Yes.” Piett’s throat was dry, “But I don’t think you would. Slaughter all the men you’ve been working closely with these past months? These men with families? I’ve been told Rebels were above such atrocities.”

“Who cares? You do it to us all the time.” Franx once more.

“All right, Captain. We’ll take you with us---you definitely have value as a hostage.”

He didn’t, he knew that. Vader would never bother negotiating with Rebels for a captain stupid enough to get caught. But  _ they _ didn’t know that.

“Hostage? What’s the point?”   
  


“He’s the captain of the Executor,” said a new voice. “He has value.”

“My men have value too,” Piett insisted, tilting his head even though he couldn’t see the speaker. “I’m asking you not to murder them in cold blood.”

“We won’t,” said the young voice confidently.

“If he’s the captain of the Executor he works right with Vader. He’ll have lots of good intel,” said Franx in a rather nasty voice.

_ Good luck with that, you bastard. _

“Franx, this is why I’m the agent and you’re not,” said the voice of the spy, “if he’s that high in the command structure, he’s been trained to resist interrogation, especially since he was promoted by Vader personally.”

_ What did his file say? _ Piett wondered.

“And we’re not doing that,” insisted the younger voice. 

“Agreed,” said the spy. 

“Then let’s just kill them all and go. It’s what they would do to us,” complained Franx.

Piett just needed to stall a bit more. Give his back up a little more time. 

“You’re sounding far more trigger happy than any of my men,” he commented to Franx, and was rewarded with a rifle butt in his stomach. 

PIett coughed helplessly, and then a strangely familiar sound was in his ears. He could feel someone step in front of him. 

“Back off Franx. Kriff, he’s tied up. What is wrong with you?”

“So what? No wonder Jedi are basically extinct if they were all as soft as you.”

_ Skywalker. Skywalker was in front of him, and that sound he was hearing was a lightsaber, not his concussion. _

“Get out Franx. Wedge, take him and start loading our people---we need to go.”

“Luke….look, he seems decent.”

_ Antilles sounded reluctant. Maybe his men had a chance. _

“My offer still stands,” he said, “I won’t resist if you let my men go.”

Skywalker….. _ sighed _ ?

“Wedge go. Of course we’re not going to hurt them.”

Piett heard several people leave the room. 

“It’s just us,” said that young voice, and then the lightsaber sound stopped. “Sorry about the head. And Franx in general. Look, we’re leaving you here.  _ All _ of you.”

_ Great. Lord Vader would kill him rather than the Rebels. _

“Can I just ask---our agent seems to think you’re a man with honor, and Vader himself promoted you----why is he so obsessed with me?”

“You destroyed the Death Star, does he need another reason?” Piett asked wryly, feeling terribly sick. The concussion-- making its delightful presence known. 

“It’s more than that,” said Skywalker confidently. 

“Yes, it seems so,” Piett agreed, and  _ kriff _ he needed to stop talking. The blow to the head had really done a number. And the boy was so damned personable.

“You don’t know?”

“You think that Lord Vader confides his personal thoughts to me, or anyone, Skywalker? I’m just following orders. Which I failed.”

Skywalker suddenly drew in his breath sharply. “Did you though? He’s coming. Well played, Captain, but I’ve got to go. Sorry again about the head.”

And he was gone. 

_ ‘He’s coming’? Lord Vader? He hadn’t been informed that Vader would be joining them unless or until they were successful. _

Well, Piett supposed, he had a shorter time to live than he thought.

  
  


*****

“My Lord,” Veers turned to Vader on the bridge of the smaller Victory class Star Destroyer. “Captain Piett reports that they have Antilles.”

“Very good. Have Captain Montague proceed as planned.”

Vader could sense the unease that Veers was admirably hiding. He had not been expecting the Dark Lord himself to accompany them on this mission. Piett still didn’t know. 

However, Vader had felt a stirring in the Force---something was prompting him. As they got closer to the station, he reached for his son’s presence.  _ There _ .

Vader willed the ship to go faster---the Force was urgent.

He could tell the boy was free and he jerked as he felt Vader brush him in the Force. Something had gone wrong then, with the plan and his son was getting away. No. 

_ Skywalker, he sent. _

_ What do you want? Get out! _

_ You are powerful. I can complete your training. _

_ You? Never. I want nothing to do with the Dark Side! _

Their ship snapped into real space, and Vader saw the station floating before them---numerous Rebel ships taking off from it, among them his son’s X- wing.

“Tractor the fighters!” he ordered.

“My Lord, we’re too far…”

“Do it. Extend the range.”

_ I do not wish to harm you, young one. _

_ Ha! You kill your own men. I don’t believe you.  _

_ Search the Force, you know I am telling the truth. I will not harm you.  _

He could feel the hyperdrives powering up in the Rebel ships.

_ Luke! _

_ I don’t want to join you! I loathe the Dark Side. Besides, you  _ **_kill_ ** _ Jedi.  _

_ The rest of your men will be allowed to leave if you surrender. _

_ No! But--a flash of guilt from his son---I’m sorry about your Captain. _

_ My….? _

And the Rebel ships jumped.

Vader could feel the utter tsunami of fear on the bridge. He stared for some time at the spot where they had disappeared. 

So close. The Dark Side hummed with his frustration.

Perhaps he should have just told his son who he was. Is that what it would take? His rejection was so  _ strong _ ….

And Vader…..Vader feared that. To have discovered his son lived only to have him reject his father. 

“My Lord?” Veers. Veers had the courage to address him. Naturally, because….

“Do you wish us to board the station?”

_ I need to know if my friend lives _ , was the unspoken undercurrent. 

“Yes. I will join your party, General.”

Another surge of fear that Veers was remarkably good at keeping off of his face.

“Yes, my Lord.”

He expected him to execute Piett. Possibly himself. 

And if it had been anyone else, it was quite likely he would have. But this was the closest they had been in a year. He desired to know why it had failed. Piett may have the answers….if he lived.

What had Luke meant--- _ I’m sorry about your Captain? _

He did not want to replace Piett. He had him marked to be the Admiral. 

_ Then maybe you should stop putting him in situations where he could die from either Rebels or your temper? _

What was the point in killing Obi-Wan if his voice was constantly in his head?

They landed several shuttles on the station, and fanned out to search for their men. Vader stalked through the corridors, feeling his son’s residual presence, which was what led him eventually to his missing Captain. 

For a moment he feared--not fear, Sith didn’t _fear_ \---that Piett was indeed dead, judging by the amount of blood on the floor and down his uniform. 

But the Captain moved his head sharply at the sound of Vader’s respirator, and the Dark Lord realized he was blindfolded as well as restrained. He waved a hand and the binders and fabric fell away, allowing Piett to blink very concussed eyes at him in an attempt to focus. 

He could feel Piett’s fear as well. He was preparing himself as he rubbed feeling back into his arms.

He moved to stand, and Vader felt his frustration when he couldn’t.

“I…..apologize, my Lord, both for not rising and my failure. I have no excuse. The blame of course is mine and mine alone.”

He was seeking to spare his men and, no doubt, Veers. 

_ Really Anakin? This is what you’ve driven the man to? Apologizing for being hurt and for getting you this close? _

He hated the Obi-Wan voice, especially when it was right. 

_ Most of the time then.  _

Stop. 

He pointed his lightsaber at Piett. “Explain.”

_ Nine hells, Anakin. Get the man some medical attention, don’t interrogate him. There was a time that mattered. _

__ Piett swallowed, looking ill and tried to stand once more. Vader was reminded why he was the Lady’s Captain, and a stab of  _ something _ went through him. 

“Clearly you cannot rise at the moment, Captain. It is no matter. Explain.”

“My Lord, there was a Rebel spy among us. He alerted Skywalker to our intention shortly after we arrived at the station with Antilles. When the Rebels arrived, Skywalker among them, they knocked me out. Sir, I don’t know what happened with my men. Skywalker said they would not be harmed but…”

_**He** cares about his men. Maybe try that out yourself, Anakin?_

“You  _ spoke _ with him?”

“Yes, my Lord. He, ah, he defended me actually from the more enthusiastic Imperial haters among them. I heard his lightsaber and Antilles called him ‘Luke’. He didn’t deny it.”

Of course the boy would do so. Just as he had come to save Antilles. Piett had been correct to seek that approach. 

Footsteps and then Veers was with them, and Vader felt his lurch of terror as he took in the scene---Piett covered in blood and Vader pointing his still ignited lightsaber at the Captain. He felt the General harden his resolve, and his hand even twitched toward his blaster.

Vader smiled grimly under the mask and extinguished his blade. 

“ _Firmus_ …..My Lord, with your permission I’ll comm a medic.”

Iron General indeed. His control was superb. And Vader suddenly had a moment of clarity. He valued these men. Had been cultivating them with Death Squadron. He ought not to risk them like this--whether to his own anger or to exceedingly perilous missions. 

“Just a head wound Veers,” the Captain was saying faintly, “I’d rather walk to the ship.” He turned his eyes back to Vader with an effort. “If….ah, if I’m returning to the ship, my Lord?”

_ Of course you’re returning _ ! Vader wanted to say. 

Veers, kneeling by the Captain, tightened his grip on Piett’s arm and stared almost defiantly at his commander.

“You are not able to walk, Captain. Include a grav sled in the request, General,” Vader told them, and wondered if Piett was in danger of passing out in his relief while Veers commed the team.

On the shuttle back to the ship, Vader turned over the controls to the pilot and moved to the hold. Veers was seated on the floor looking immensely weary, and next to him on the grav sled, Piett lay with his head bandaged and eyes closed.

They flew open at his approach and both men watched him warily. 

“This attempt,” Vader said without preamble, “was a good one. If not for this spy, it is quite likely we would have succeeded. I believe we should use this method again, though with different bait.”

He paused.  _ Kriff, he was so terrible at this. _

_ You never were very good at it, even before you became the monster. _

For the love of the galaxies, Obi-Wan, get out of my head.

“You did well, Captain Piett, in this endeavor. As did you, General.”

Flashes of surprise from both men. 

“Thank you, my Lord,” Piett managed.

“We will hunt out the Rebel’s new base. And we will plan again to catch Skywalker.”

“He asked me if I knew why you were hunting him,” Piett commented, unprompted. Veers looked at him sharply. 

_ Did he now? _

“What did you say, Captain?”

“That I assumed it was about the Death Star’s destruction.”

“He did not accept that answer.”

“No, my Lord. He seemed to think there was more,” Piett responded. Veers’ hand found his shoulder.

_ More true than any of them knew. _

“What do you think, Captain?” 

“I think you will tell us if you want us to know,” Piett responded tiredly. 

_ And he would. When the time was right and Piett was Admiral. _

“That, Captain,” said Vader, “is exactly right.”


	74. The Cost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuing with further looks at Vader's obsessive hunt for Luke, this time from some different perspectives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yup. Angst town. But it's me guys.....;)

It shouldn’t have surprised Baldwin that the Captain had found his way here once more. He knew that the younger man had a difficult time sleeping in normal circumstances. (As normal as circumstances were on the Lady) Now, however, hunting this Rebel pilot, the Captain was to be found far more frequently perusing his night time wanderings. 

The Chief was aware that Piett had been personally tasked with finding the pilot, after Ozzel had continued to come up empty handed. No mean feat given all that Piett had on his plate as Captain of the Lady, and Baldwin was growing increasingly concerned as the dark circles under Piett’s eyes started to look as though he had been punched in the face. 

However, this night was different. 

Most of the ship was aware of the consequences of Lord Vader’s latest quest against the Rebels. Some of the commanders in the Herd were friends of Baldwin’s and they had come back, drained and discouraged, from the five days of pushing through the wet and cold of the planet on which they had been fighting.

Vader had kept them there, certain that the pilot would be among this Rebel cell, and had personally and tirelessly led them in the watery terrain. 

By some measurements, the campaign was a success--minimal casualties, the Rebels chased off and defeated, and the destruction of their base. 

But no pilot.

And the General--- who had been mostly at Vader’s side all those days, largely without sleep----had stepped out of the transport, set his muddy boots on the Lady’s polished decking, and promptly passed out. 

Ellery had reached him first, stripping off his cuirass to determine if there was a wound that Veers had been hiding. 

Lord Vader had curtly commanded them to get Doctor Henley, and swept from the bay, reportedly to his training rooms though he might have gone to terrify the bridge. 

It turned out that Veers was not wounded, but terribly and perilously ill after being pushed so hard, and he had caught some exotic virus on the planet. 

The Herd was dispirited, and a pall lay over large swathes of the ship---the General was respected and liked, despite the stern reputation.

And of course, the other casualty of this, was his closest friend. 

Captain Piett carried out his duties with a stern coldness that was usually associated more with Veers, but his bridge crew knew him well enough to know that he was locking down---he had to if he was to serve with Lord Vader. When he finished his shift, he went to sit with Veers until the Doctor shooed him away to get some sleep. 

Which, Baldwin guessed, was barely happening. He had gone so far as to check in with the Doctor two nights ago, concerned that they might be taking Piett to sickbay soon as well. Henley had asked to be kept apprised, but pointed out that the Captain was carrying out his duties with his normal efficiency, and until that started to slip, he didn’t want to sideline him. 

But now…

The Chief had just got off the comm with the Doctor as Piett entered the bay.

_ It’s bad, Baldwin. I’ve done everything I can. I’ve just told him that, and gave the instruction for him to try and rest. If he comes your way, be ready. I think the man’s on the verge of a breakdown. _

_ What should I do? Baldwin asked. _

_ If it’s physical, bring him to me. If it’s more than that---and it is---I’m not sure what to tell you. You’re better at that then I am Chief.  _

Piett was clearly trying to be unobtrusive, but he was also moving like a man who has forgotten precisely how his limbs work. 

Baldwin moved quietly down the catwalk and descended the stairs to follow the Captain. His office was close and somehow, he just knew he needed to get to Piett, which he did swiftly as the officer stumbled and put out a hand. 

Baldwin was there, an arm around him, and Piett’s shattered eyes found his face with vague surprise. 

“I’ve got you, sir,” he told him firmly, and Piett’s slight frame shook with a sob. Baldwin got them both swiftly into the office, and lowered the Captain to sit on his old couch, before he rummaged in a desk drawer to find what he was looking for. 

He poured two glasses of Corellian scotch and handed one to Piett, making sure his shaking hands were firm around it before letting go. 

“Drink it, sir,” he told him, and Piett obeyed automatically, taking a large gulp and then gasping at the burn, but he lost the vague look and seemed more present, seeking to control the emotion. 

_ You’re long overdue for this, sir. _

Baldwin took a drink from his own glass, set it on the desk and came to sit by the Captain. 

“Sir,” he told him, “keeping it in doesn’t help. You’re safe here, sir, Force knows you need to let it out.”

And Piett’s face crumpled before he buried it in his hands to allow himself to break. Baldwin put his hand on Piett’s back, anchoring the Captain in his grief. 

_ Too much on your shoulders, sir. Far too much and it’s crushing you. _

But Piett did not let himself go for long. Baldwin reached for the tissues and handed them to the Captain who cleaned his face and then sat bent over, his elbows on his knees. 

“Thank you, Baldwin,” he said after a while. “I’m….”

“Don’t say you’re sorry, sir,” he interrupted, “you’ve done nothing wrong.  _ Stars _ , Captain, it’s a miracle you’re standing as far as I’m concerned.”

Piett gave a joyless smile at the floor. 

“We’ll see how long I can, Chief. Between not sleeping or Lord Vader’s patience running out with my failure, it may not be long.”

_ You have not failed, Captain. _

“I’m not sure what to tell you there, Captain. I can only say that your crew don’t see failure and when you do your job every day as you are, you help us to run a smooth ship for Lord Vader. He may be frustrated with the pilot situation. But Captain, if you weren’t on the bridge, he’d be throttling far more people than he is.”

“Baldwin, be careful….”

“I would never say this to anyone else, sir, I assure you. But you are shielding us and….and you don’t have anyone to shield you at the moment.”

  
  
A silence.

“He’s dying, Chief.”

“I know, sir. I’m so sorry.”

He watched as Piett drew the mantle of Captain about himself once more, taking a breath and raising his head before he rose. Baldwin rose with him.

“You going to be all right getting back, sir?” he asked.

“Yes.” Piett tugged his jacket down and straightened his hat---the officer immaculate. He turned and held out his hand.

“Thank you, Baldwin. I couldn’t have…..just….thank you.”

He grasped the Captain’s hand firmly. 

“Anytime sir.”

And he watched the slight figure until he disappeared into a lift.

_ Force keep him safe. _

  
  


*****

Vader strode down the long corridor pondering Henley’s curt comm call.

“You will likely need to consider promoting a new General, my Lord. It is unlikely that Veers will last the night. Just thought you might like some preparation. Get the paperwork done, you know.”

“You are certain, Doctor…?”

“I’ve done all I can, my Lord, but he was pushed too far. Oh, and you might need to consider a new Captain as well, given the situation. I’m sure you haven’t thought about that. Sith don’t do friendships correct?”

His tone was coldly angry.  _ Henley was angry. With  _ **_him_ ** _. _

“Doctor….”

“You put yourself in this situation, my Lord. I’m just letting you know you’ll need to find some more cannon fodder to slot into position.”

And the Doctor had cut the call.  _ Henley _ had cut it. 

His anger had risen, but then, the reason Henley was his personal doctor was precisely because of his ability to take no poodu, even from Vader. 

Veers was  _ dying _ ?

Damn it, he needed the man! Had counted on having the General. There was no one who could currently replace him. 

He found himself heading to the bay where Veers had his office and where much of the Herd was stowed. As he did so, he became increasingly aware of strong emotion--perhaps he sensed it because it too, was focused on Veers. 

_ Of course. Kriff. _

Piett was standing with his back to Vader, hands clasped behind him in his familiar stance, gazing at Walker 5. 

_ The General’s walker. _

Now meticulously cleaned by his men after their most recent campaign. 

Piett’s grief was a rolling swell in the Force and Vader was momentarily surprised at how strong it was. And because he was so unguarded, Vader heard his thoughts.

_ I can’t do this without you, Max.  _

_ How long before my failure has me choking on the bridge? _

_ I can’t just give up---who will protect the men from this madness? _

Vader had long ago decided that Piett would never be throttled. Clearly the Captain had no idea. But the despair…..

That was not like Piett. Well. It had not been in the past. 

_ We need my son, Captain. Then you shall be promoted and you may have as much leave as you need when we have achieved our objectives. _

But that wouldn’t bring back Veers.

Vader got close enough that Piett was alerted to his presence, and he felt the spike of fear as the Captain whipped around.

“My Lord, I…..did not expect you here.”

“Nor you, Captain.”

He studied Piett. The officer looked awful. What had Henley said?  _ Sith don’t do friendships, correct? _

“I…...couldn’t sleep, my Lord.”

_ Apparently that had been the case for some time. _

“Understandable.”

Piett’s eyes darted to his mask.

“Yes, well, if you desired to be alone, my Lord I shall…..”

“I am sorry about Veers.” He didn’t know why he said it. His mask did not allow blurting, but he had in essence just done that.

And Piett surprised him again with a surge of rage, though it did not show on his face.

“Are you, my Lord?” he asked coolly.

_ So, you blame me as well, Piett. And if anyone else had given him that tone…. _

But…...he  _ had _ pushed the General and he had risen to the challenge, allowing Vader to pursue the lead on the pilot while still achieving success against the Rebels.

“I am,” he responded.

Piett brought himself under control, something he was very good at, Vader reflected.

“By your leave, my Lord, I would like to go to sickbay.”

“Certainly, Captain.”

And Piett nodded, moving past him.

_ I am sorry, Captain. I know what it is to lose your friend. Your brother. _

“Piett.”

He stopped and turned. “My Lord?”

“You are relieved of duty tomorrow. Ozzel will take the bridge.”

Uncertainty.

“I….thank you, my Lord.”

Vader nodded and turned back to the walkers. Piett’s footsteps faded away.

_ He needed to find and protect his son. They would understand then. _

  
  


*****

Henley watched him come in, and sink into the chair by the General’s bed in the intensive care wing. 

He had urged him out earlier, but he couldn’t bring himself to do so now. Life or death — it was up to Veers now, and he would allow the Captain to stay with him to the end---as they always did for each other, Henley reflected.

_ Damn Vader and his obsession. Damn his Sith soul. _

There had been a time, not so long ago, that he had been rather convinced that Vader actually valued these two men. That he was building Death Squadron around officers who had integrity and strength. Henley had hope for the Empire in that. 

Now though…..if Veers died, Piett would not be long after, either from his own over exertions or when he slipped up from exhaustion, and Vader killed him. 

The Captain removed his hat and set it beside himself. He looked like death warmed over, and Henley was strongly tempted to sneak up behind him with a sedative just to get the man some rest. 

But…..perhaps that would not be necessary. Piett rested a hand on the General’s still arm and in minutes, as Henley watched, his head was nodding, and he was slowly folding over to the bed. 

The doctor waited for ten minutes, until he was sure Piett was well and truly out, then snagged an extra blanket and came out quietly to drape it over the Captain’s shoulders. 

_ Let him have a short time of rest. He could keep watch. _

Three hours later, Henley looked up from his data pad when the read out above Veers made a soft noise.

He prepared himself for the report, but then blinked and looked again. 

Well. 

He looked down at Veers and ran his scanner. 

_ Iron General indeed. _

Henley smiled and adjusted the drip. 

An hour later, Veers’ heart rate increased as did his breathing, and then the Doctor was looking into his tired grey eyes. 

He smiled at the General involuntarily, and reflected that it might have been the first time he’d done that. 

Veers raised his eyebrows at the Doctor, but Henley inclined his head toward the sleeping form near his arm, and Veers turned his head slightly to take in the haggard face of his friend. His mouth curved a little. 

“Firmus.”

His voice was a very pale shadow of its normal baritone, but it was enough to reach the Captain, whose eyes shot open and zeroed in on the General’s face. 

Henley discovered that he had an allergy ---- it was really the only explanation for his eyes watering, and not at all because of the expression Piett was wearing. 

“Max. Oh  _ stars _ ...we were all sure…”

The Captain laughed shakily. 

“Who’s the stubborn bastard now?” he asked, and Veers smiled. 

“Firmus,” he murmured.

“Yes?”

“Go to bed. I’ll be here. Right, Doctor?”

_ Henley would need to write this incident down. It was the -third? fourth? - instance of agreeing with the General.  _

The Captain opened his mouth.

“Sickbay has plenty of beds,” Henley told him. “But boots off first, Captain.”

And miraculously, Piett didn’t argue.

Henley retreated to his office fifteen minutes later and sent a message to Baldwin.

_ One woke up so the other can sleep. Thanks Chief. We all live to fight another day. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this and was seriously angry with Vader at the end. xD I just want to shake him. Which is an amusing mental image. But....seriously.


	75. Caf and Cocoa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Veers and Luke end up having a late night conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to guepard54 for this prompt! We don't see these two interact as much, so I appreciate giving them the opportunity to do so! 
> 
> Slightly lighter after all the Luke chasing we've had. :)

Luke wiped the sweat from his eyes and realized that he had ended up in the bay that housed much of the Thundering Herd. 

It was quiet for the most part, but his Force honed senses picked up the faint sounds of metal clinking together and he moved further into the bay.

Some tech was working on the foot of one of the Walkers, his jacket discarded and shirtsleeves rolled up…..wait. Techs didn’t wear that kind of uniform.

And Luke realized that the General himself was doing some sort of maintenance on Walker 5. 

Luke himself tended to work on his X-Wing when he needed focus, or when he just wanted to be alone for a while. He wondered how many of them did this? He knew his Father did. Apparently, Veers did too. He had a sudden amusing image of the Admiral, oil smudged on his face, in engineering somewhere doing maintenance on the Lady.

He decided to leave Veers to it, but the man turned around and spotted him. 

“Hello Commander. Did you need something?”

He had always rather liked the General. Han pointed out that he liked most people, which …..all right was usually true (not Palpatine,  _ Han _ ) but Veers was still a very cool customer. Leia got on very well with him, but then Veers was Piett’s closest friend, so that seemed somewhat inevitable. 

He had worked with him on many assignments now, but Luke had never forgotten the very first one---the one where he had seen that the ‘Butcher of Hoth’ had a heart that could be damaged. 

_ “I’ll give you my division if you can save him” _

_ Piett’s blood----So. Much. blood.--- under Luke’s hands as he strove in his very inexperienced way to save the Admiral. _

_ Veers looking at him with defiant and desperate grey eyes, clutching his friend to him as if to shield him from death _

He related to that passion very well, and had an ever expanding list of people about whom he felt that same way. 

So yes, he rather liked the General. 

“Hello sir. No, sorry to disturb you, I just…..sometimes I can’t sleep so I take a jog around the Lady.”

Veers lifted an eyebrow. “And when a Jedi says he’s taking a ‘jog’ around an 11 kilometer Star Destroyer, he means…..?”

Luke laughed even as he grew slightly embarrassed. “Um, yeah, 11 kilometers and counting. Have to stay fit too you know.”

Veers grinned at him suddenly. “I should tell my Herd that. Watch them lose all morale. They generally consider themselves the fittest on board.”

“What are you working on, sir?” Luke asked him, gesturing to the Walker.

“Ah. Well, in my case I haven’t been to sleep. Memories are the difficulty tonight.”

So Veers was like him or his Father. Perhaps on a less intense level. 

“Can I give you a hand, General?” he inquired.

Veers considered him for a minute. “You’re supposedly rather handy with mechanics aren’t you, Skywalker? All right, yes. The foot is not responding as it should and I’m having trouble locating the issue.”

Luke knelt beside him to peer at the wiring. “Don’t you have mechanics for each AT-AT sir?”

“Skywalker, I think we both know I’m not doing this because there’s a lack of mechanics.”

He could always count on Veers to be direct. It was often refreshing. 

“Yes sir. Um, would you like me to power up the Walker so we can test the movement?”

“Power up….? Ah. Well, your abilities have many uses. Go on then.” 

Luke concentrated and the huge machine roared into life, startling the few men on duty in the bay at this hour. Luke had the Walker lift the foot and move it around and he could see what Veers meant. 

“I think I know what the issue is, sir,” he told the General as the Walker lowered the foot to the deck, and he shut the power off with the Force. 

He and Veers worked on the troublesome wiring until the General was satisfied, and packed away the tools. He sat back on a crate and glanced at Luke, and suddenly a huge swell of sadness bloomed in the Force.

Luke reeled slightly. “Is something wrong, sir?” he blurted before he could stop himself. 

Veers looked at him sharply. “Are you reading my mind, Skywalker?”

“No, sorry, not at all, just….you were so sad all of a sudden and I’m nearby. Jedi can pick up on feelings sir. I assure you, I don’t know what you’re thinking.” 

Veers looked down at the deck. 

_ Kriff, he’d really bungled that.  _

“I can go…” Luke started.

“No. Thank you, Commander….I ….was thinking that my son would be about your age, and he would have loved working with me on that project.”

“I’m sorry, General.”

Veers sighed. “I could use a caf. No point in sleeping now. You?”

“I’m more of a cocoa person, sir.” 

Veers gave him a look as he punched the order in to the galley on his datapad. 

“That a Skywalker thing?”

“I...am not sure. Why?”

“Your sister makes it a habit with Piett, when they aren’t drinking that tea of his.” Veers made a face. Luke was aware he was a dedicated caf man. 

“Ah. I don’t know. I never had it until I joined the Alliance, so it was a marvelous novelty. I couldn’t tell you why Leia likes it.”

Veers studied him for several minutes.

“May I ask what you’re thinking sir?” Luke ventured, seating himself cross legged on the floor.

Veers made a small smile. “I am just remembering the obsessive quest we were on to find you. Two years where you were the focus of all that we did, it seemed. “

_ Luke was aware of some of that. _

“I feel as though I should apologize….”

“No. I didn’t mean to imply that. I just….”

A little server droid trundled in with their drinks.

“Having worked with all of you Rebels (Veers said it without heat and a small smile) for a few years now, it has been made very clear that we all agree that Hoth and Bespin were appalling for all sides.”   
  


“Yes,” Luke agreed quietly, taking a sip. “I didn’t know you almost died on the Hoth mission, sir.”

“Mm.”

Luke felt the moment that Veers decided to share some more personal thoughts with him. The man’s resolve was always strong in the Force. 

“I have nightmares on occasion that I succeeded more wildly than we hoped. I’m being rewarded and I realize midway through the ceremony it’s because I killed the princess and Solo when I destroyed the base.”

Luke felt chilled. It could have been like that…

Veers gripped the mug in both hands. “And I look over to see that Firmus is utterly wrecked and your Father is glaring at me….”

“General. You didn’t. You weren’t trying to.”

“No. I can honestly say that I wasn’t seeking to utterly annihilate it. Still…..as your sister recently pointed out, we were all trying to kill each other three years ago. It does give me pause to think that we could have, given how I feel about you all now.”

Luke smiled widely at him, and the General begrudgingly returned it. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this, Skywalker.”

“I’m glad to hear it, sir.” He paused. 

“I…..have had visions. Jedi can get them….”

“Yes, I believe you’ve mentioned.”

“I had one a few nights ago. About Endor.”

He shivered.  _ It had been so real, he was certain it had been an alternate way that things could have played out.  _

“I think it was…..a version of the way things could have gone.”

“What do you mean?” Veers asked, taking another grateful sip of his caf. 

“It was very real. In it, I escaped Bespin. We never allied ourselves with you. I did set out to save my Father and we battled in the throne room, but…..he died saving me.”

Luke swallowed.

“And…..and you were killed on Endor fighting Leia, and the Lady……” he stopped.

“The Lady’s bridge was destroyed in a suicide attack, sending her into the Death Star.”

Veers was utterly still. “Kriff, Skywalker, that……”

“I know.” Luke nodded. “It could have happened.” Both of them sipped their drinks.

“General,” Luke ventured at last. “This is going to sound odd, given how much we all suffered at Bespin, but…..I’m glad you caught me there.”

He felt Veers’ strong agreement.

“It made my Father…..he changed there, would you agree?”

“No question,” Veers said quietly. 

“I was so intimidated by you,” Luke told him with a grin. “Do you remember threatening me if I hurt the Admiral in any way?”

Veers grinned back. “That still stands, Commander.”

Luke laughed. “Well given what I now know you two must have gone through in hunting me, I completely understand. I rather believe that the Admiral would give me the same directive for you.”

Veers chuckled. “Or he’d just shoot.”

The General rose and stretched. “Well, my shift begins in two hours, Commander. I need to clean up.”

“Yes sir. Thanks for the talk.”

“Skywalker.”   
  


Luke paused.

“I’m glad that your vision was not our reality.”

Luke gave him a blinding smile.

“So am I.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Of course you tell him these things Max. It's Luke and no one can resist him. :D


	76. Artoo and the Admiral

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is dedicated to ktulu1347 who has a particular love for Artoo, and is terrifically inspiring to me as a writer. Thanks much!
> 
> In which, Artoo and Piett have an adventure

“It’s an old mine field, sir! Clone wars era I suspect!”

“Force  _ damn _ it! Why wasn’t it on the map?” Piett shouted back, using the lamda’s guns to try and blow the mines before they were too close. 

“No idea sir,” the pilot said, doing his best to maneuver. “But I agree with your assessment---we should just try to get through it. Turning around would be worse.”   
  


“Artoo!” Piett called back to the blue astromech in the hold. “Can you see about finding a route that has the least mines?”

A twitter and whir as the little droid plugged in.

He thought that meant “I’m checking” but he wasn’t completely sure. Recent events had led to Piett working on his binary*. He would never be able to speak it, but he could try to understand it. 

A brilliant flash on their port side. 

_ Oh kriffing hell. That had been one of the Gozanti cruisers.  _

“Lieutenant….”But Piett stopped as his pilot threw them sideways and down and that was a mine  _ way _ to close…...Piett fired and he knew he hit it, but it was right there…..

  
  


******

Artoo connected to the remaining controls in the shuttle. There was just enough power to finish steering it out of the minefield. 

[Are you functioning? He asked the Lady’s Admiral and the pilot.]

He retracted his arm and ran a biological scan. The pilot was deceased. The Admiral was alive, though damaged. Unconscious. No immediate life threatening injuries.

Artoo began to send a distress signal out. He knew the Lady was too far, but he had to try. He was resilient like that. He always tried. Threepio usually sat down and gave up. Sometimes he towed Threepio along, literally. It was such a good thing that Threepio had him. 

Currently however, he needed the Lady’s Admiral to wake up. 

He knew the man would not appreciate his methods, but Artoo was always prepared to do what it took in desperate situations. 

He extended his electric prod and made sure it was at the lowest setting before touching the Admiral’s leg.

Hm. Nothing. Harder blow to the head than Artoo had first diagnosed. He upped the setting slightly, and jabbed again at the gaberwool covered leg.

“Son of a  _ Hutt _ !”

[You are welcome, Artoo told him as the Admiral’s eyes flew open, and he pushed himself up from the console he had collapsed upon. ]

The Admiral glared at him. “Really Artoo? I  _ hate _ electric…..Kriff. Lieutenant?”

He reached over to check the man’s pulse and bowed his head for a moment. “Damn it,” he whispered. 

[The Lady’s Admiral took the decease of any of his crew very hard. He was nearly as good as Artoo was at looking out for his people, and Artoo could sympathize. He had lost Padme’ Amidala after all.]

[I am sorry he is deceased, Artoo told him. But we must find a way to get the ship working. You cannot run without oxygen.]

“Did you say something…..about you’re sorry and the oxygen? Oh nine hells…...the oxygen.”

He unbuckled his restraints, and promptly fell to the floor on his hands and knees.

[You have a concussion, Artoo told him.]

“Yes, thank you. I figured that out for myself.” 

[You look too white. Are you going to expel from your stomach?] Artoo moved out of the way, but the Admiral managed to take in deep breaths through his nose, before staggering into the hold searching for the medkit. 

“Anti-nausea….there.” The Admiral administered the shot, along with one for pain and then looked at Artoo with eyes that were too dilated, but aware. 

“All right, Artoo. The oxygen problem is concerning, but the most pressing thing is getting a distress signal out. I can’t make more oxygen, but we can try and get help. Hopefully the right kind. Have you been transmitting?”

[Yes of course, Artoo told him, but we should try to repair the shuttle to send a distress signal. It has a longer range.]

“Something about the shuttle range….yes. I agree. There is a tool kit here somewhere…..” The Lady’s Admiral undid his jacket and shrugged it off, then reached up to mop the blood from the cut on his head, before rummaging for the tool kit. 

[I can look for the oxygen leak, Artoo said.]

“Yes, that’s the idea---preserve oxygen. But I need to get the console working if I can.”

[He had not understood completely. He was trying, and Artoo was pleased with his progress, but humans were so slow when it came to binary. Well. Regular ones. Skywalkers did just fine.]

Artoo rolled around scanning the hold and found the location of the oxygen tank. He trundled over to it. 

[The location of the leak is tricky, Admiral, he said. But I think I can stop it if you open this panel.]

The Admiral stared at him and sighed. “I am trying to understand this. Something about a leaf? And...you want me to do something?”

Artoo rolled his camera.

The Lady’s Admiral snorted. “Yes, well you’re not the only one who’s exasperated. I’m  _ trying _ . The other one speaks Basic you know. You could try.”

[Had he really just said Threepio had a superiority? Did he not understand the difference between a protocol droid and the useful kind? Astromechs never spoke  _ Basic _ , thank the Maker.]

[But Artoo was the very internal core of patience. And the Admiral was trying, even though he was damaged. LEAK. He said and extended an interface arm to point to the panel he wanted removed. OXYGEN. FIX.]

Comprehension dawned. “Oh I see. Well that was clear. You could try being that clear a little more often.”

[Sometimes it was like talking to mouse droids. Or J. J was Wedge Antilles’ droid and rather slow in his processors.]

The Admiral rolled up his sleeves and got to work removing the panel so that Artoo could access the oxygen tank. He knelt as Artoo pointed a red laser dot into the area. 

“Yes all right. I can try and move this section for you. Then I’m afraid I can’t reach. Will your manipulator arm reach?”

[There are very few things that my manipulator arm  _ can’t _ reach, Artoo informed him.]

The Admiral raised an eyebrow at him. “Hmm. I think Veers can attest to that.”

[Artoo flickered his lights in laughter. Yes. Taking his caf yesterday was amusing. But right now I must fix this to save you.]

“That was not saving his caf, that was stealing it,” the Admiral said.

Artoo rolled his camera again, and shoved gently at the Admiral’s legs to go work on communications.

“Fine, I get the hint. You’re terribly condescending sometimes you know.”

[If you would work harder on your binary, I wouldn’t need to be, Artoo told the Admiral’s retreating back.]

[Now, if he could reach in with his arm…..there. Hmm. He could melt it shut--at least they wouldn’t lose anymore oxygen. But there would be a limited supply and while Artoo would be fine, the Lady’s Admiral would not be. He slagged it shut and withdrew the arm. No doubt the Admiral would need him to repair communications too.]

  
  


*****

Piett gently removed the body of the Lieutenant, and brought him back to the hold to wrap in a crate tarp. Back in the cockpit, he took stock. They had lost one of the lower fins on the shuttle, not that it mattered without being able to go anywhere. No smoke so that was good. The control panel seemed fairly well fried, but he had to try. He could only picture his commander if he was rescued, and he hadn't done everything he could to repair communications. 

“But not all of us have incredible Force powers sir, that can magically find the problem with any mechanism,” Piett mumbled under his breath as he lay on his back under the co-pilot’s console.

“Ah, but Admiral, did you not note this infinitesimal wire located at the very back? It was obvious that it was the problem. A child could have done it,” Piett responded to himself in an attempt at a deeper tone.

“Quite so, my Lord, if only we had a child on board. How useful that would have been,” he continued, enjoying this imaginary conversation as it was one he could never have in reality. 

“Piett, it sounds to me as though you are mocking my observation,” the Admiral said again in attempt at Vader’s baritone, and wagging a finger at the sparking wires above him, “And you will recall that I am so much taller than you are which I prove by looming over you at unexpected moments, just to startle you.”

“Yes, my Lord,” Piett responded again, yanking on a stubborn cross piece of metal. “Your dark and yet often juvenile sense of humor is a joy and delight to us all, and you better  _ kriffing _ believe that was sarcasm. Ooof!” 

The piece he was pulling, came loose and he wacked his elbow smartly on the deck. 

“Son of a…!” 

Rubbing his elbow he peered into the opening at the wiring and tested them carefully. Well about three seemed live. Now to figure out which three those were. A beep sounded behind him.

“Perfect yes. Artoo can you see where these three live feeds go? And if I can jury rig them into the communications array?”

The little droid whistled something about him doing it because Piett was…...slow? There could be a couple meaning there, and he gave the astromech a suspicious look. 

He had asked for the little droid to accompany him on this trip for several reasons. 

This was supposed to have been a simple mission. Go and negotiate a shipping lane through this system, barter some simple mechanical pieces they had requested (thus the Gozanti cruisers) and return. The whole fleet didn’t need to come, or even the Lady. 

He thought it would help for him to practice his binary to pass the travel time, and he was aware that his princess had relaxed slightly when he had mentioned the idea of Artoo accompanying him. 

_ “Worried I can’t take care of myself, my dear?” he had teased gently, and she had looked at him very seriously.  _

_ “No my favorite Admiral, but I like knowing that someone always has your back when you go somewhere.” _

_ “The little caf thief counts as back up?” Veers had said with a side glare at the astromech. _

_ “He does Max,” Piett had countered, recalling recent events* and smiling at Artoo. _

The droid scanned the wires and began tracing them through the console. Then he turned toward Piett with a great deal of whirring and twittering. 

“Slow down, slow down. I got maybe three words of that,” he responded putting up his hands. Another camera roll. “Yes, I know, I’m very stupid. Try anyway. I have never in my career met a droid with as much attitude as you,  _ Force _ .”

The droid gave a blat, but repeated, and Piett got POWER ONCE GONE.

“So you’re saying we have one shot at a communications burst and then the power is gone?”

He got an affirmative. 

“ _ All _ of the power?”

A sad yes. 

_ Well. His clock was definitely ticking. Both oxygen and heat would be gone soon. He had maybe….10 hours? Surely they would be looking for him.  _

“All right, well. Let’s get to work then.”

He wanted to try and do this as soon as possible, while he could still think clearly, before the CO2 levels got too high. 

He and the little droid worked together in the cockpit, until at last Artoo got excited and rocked and burbled. 

“We have it?” Piett asked.

*Bleep.

“Well then.” He rose stiffly to his feet and felt slightly light headed. Concussion or lack of oxygen? It had taken them two hours. 

“Here goes nothing,” he told the astromech and punched the emergency communication signal. The shuttle shuddered slightly and then he was in complete darkness, the only light coming from the stars outside the viewport. 

Artoo switched on his light. 

“Thank you Artoo. How much power do you have left?”

He received something about much more than Piett had. 

The Admiral went to find the shock blankets from the hold as he knew he’d be needing them soon. He shrugged his jacket back on and began a slow and steady pace of the hold. It was a difficult choice. He needed to stay warm, but his activity meant he used more oxygen as well. Which would kill him first? Asphyxiation or hypothermia?

*****

[The Lady’s Admiral was doing all he could to stay functional. Artoo already knew that this particular human always fought to the very end, and sometimes beyond. He continued his transmitting. Perhaps if the more powerful transmission got through, they could eventually pick up his signature.]

[In the meantime, he could encourage the Lady’s Admiral. He knew that humans did not like being by themselves, no matter what Anakin Skywalker insisted at times. He flicked up a display of Madine coated in fire suppressant and the Admiral laughed.]

“Yes, I never did get that story,” he said softly, moving slowly next to Artoo who was lighting his way.

[He would not appreciate the full humor of it since he could not understand all the binary. It had been the first time he and the Lady had messed with the caf dispenser that Madine used. The General had since switched his regular caf machine six times but they always eventually ‘malfunctioned’ each time. That first time had a been a work of genius. Artoo knew it because it was his idea. Rather than a frothy caf, they had connected the fire suppressant. He pushed the button and glory happened.]

The Lady’s Admiral surprised him and chuckled. “Remind me never to get frothy caf in any of the mess halls.”

[The Lady would never let me do that to you, Artoo assured him.]

“You have pranked me though,” the Admiral said, raising an eyebrow.

[But that is different. Anakin Skywalker had the idea. And you then had liquids of alcohol so it was good.]

The Admiral groaned. “The Lady, an astromech that hasn’t been wiped since the Clone wars, and my Jedi commander all conspiring. What’s to go wrong?”

[Artoo pulled up a picture of the Lady in all her loveliness.]

“Thank you Artoo,” the Admiral said, his breathing becoming more labored. 

[Artoo scanned him. The CO2 was climbing in his system. You should sit now, he instructed.]

“I think you’re right.”

He gathered the blankets and wrapped himself in them as much as he could before heading to the cockpit and settling himself in the navigator’s chair.

Time passed. 

[Artoo was worried. The Admiral was shivering hard and his lips should not have a blue tint. His blood oxygen was at 77%. This was not promising. He needed to stay awake.]

[Stay awake, he told the Admiral, shining his light directly into his eyes and making him blink.]

“I’m…...trying…...Art-too,” he responded. 

[Artoo showed him the picture the Lady had shared with him of the Admiral and Leia Skywalker sitting side by side on the sofa, with his arm around her.]

The Lady’s Admiral smiled slightly. “I…..k-know. I promise...I’m not ….giving up.”

[Artoo switched it to the General and the Admiral wearing similar grins as they watched something, standing side by side.]

The Admiral closed his eyes and then opened them again. 

“Artoo…...if….if I don’t make it…..I have a hol…..holo recording in… my safe in the office. For….each of them. Tell….them.”

[I don’t like this kind of talk, Admiral, he informed him.]

“Sorry,” the Admiral huffed and his breath was a white puff in the dark shuttle. 

There was a long pause and Artoo scanned him in worry.

“Artoo. I’m…...glad you’re….here.”

[Do not expire. Admiral?]

Artoo scanned him. Oxygen levels at 58%. Loss of consciousness.

[The Lady would not forgive him if her Admiral expired on his watch. Or Leia Skywalker. Or the General. There were a lot of them who would not be pleased. How would he explain to Anakin Skywalker? He would understand. But he would be sad.]

It was too cold for humans. And the Admiral’s blood oxygen levels were now 55%. His chest barely rose and fell. 

Artoo had never felt this alone before.

Then. 

Bright lights outside and he suddenly recognized the signature and he rocked in a frenzy of joy. 

[The Millenium Falcon was coming up beneath the shuttle and Artoo was puzzled. Then he realized that with one of the lower fins gone, Han Solo was going to create a small atmosphere with his ship against the hull. Artoo could help.]

[He trundled back to the hold as the two ships clanged together and…..held. How?]

A bright spark of fire spurted up through the deck plating and created a circular cut.

[They are coming! He told the Lady’s Admiral up in the cockpit. Please do not expire.]

Artoo sprayed the hot metal with his coolant. Moments later, Han Solo came through wearing an oxygen mask and carrying a second one.

[He is up here, Artoo said trundling to the cockpit. You were right to bring oxygen. You did not even need me to tell you.]

“Kriff,” said Han Solo, glancing at the covered body in the hold before moving swiftly to the cockpit behind Artoo. He was very quick on the uptake (which was not always the case) and placed the oxygen mask on the Lady’s Admiral before lifting him and moving back to the hold.

“Leia?” he called down. “Are you ready?”

[Leia Skywalker was here. Perfect. Exactly the right human for the job of helping the Lady’s Admiral. Even as Artoo watched her power was exerted and the Admiral floated slowly down into the Falcon.]

“You next Artoo,” Han Solo said, looking back at the covered body and moving to heave it up as well. “Nice work. We caught your signal just as we lost track of the burst.”

[Yes. This was closer than Artoo liked, but he thought he might have saved the day again. He hoped so at least.]

  
  


*****

_ “Han I swear to all in the galaxy that if that hyperdrive doesn’t work this time, I will flatten you.” _

_ “Hey, have some faith, your Worship. I spent a lot of time working on her before this little jaunt. Besides, we have Artoo if needed.” _

_ “Force, Han....” _

It always amused him when she got snarky with her smuggler. He could feel her hand on his chest, over his heart, and he was blessedly warm again and  _ oh _ . That was what it was like to have enough oxygen. He had missed that.

Piett opened his eyes, and her face was right near his as she smiled in relief.

“Hello there. Found some historical artifacts did you?” 

And he could hear the strain in her voice. 

“Not...my...fault,” he told her, and for some reason she giggled, and laid her head on the blankets covering him. 

“ _ Stars _ , what is it with men saying that on board this ship?”

He must have looked his confusion when she lifted her head again.

“It’s all right, Admiral of mine. I’ll explain when you have so much more oxygen in your bloodstream.”

  
  
He made to remove the oxygen mask, and she lowered his hand gently. 

“No. You need that.”

_ Fine then. _

“How did you find me?” he asked.

“You got out one emergency signal which hit the Lady about four hours ago. She was ready to come right out, but she wouldn’t have made it. She was rather put out that the Falcon could get here faster.”

She leaned in closer to him, taking his hand. “Don’t tell Han, but his latest modification really had this old bucket flying. Even so it was a near thing. If Artoo hadn’t been broadcasting we would have wasted precious minutes scanning for you.”

And he heard a small *blat as the droid in question came up beside his princess. 

“Nice work, Artoo,” he told him. He understood the response fairly well, as the droid whistled and beeped happily. 

"I think that means you're happy I'm alive," Piett responded drowsily as the princess squeezed his hand.

*Blert. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *recent events being Once More Unto the Breach.


	77. Exhaustion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Lady fights a solo battle and it's rough on her crew

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a wealth of prompts and ideas, but yesterday I was so tired, and nothing was flowing as it ought. And then it hit me that I should write my mood and so......:)
> 
> I imagine many of you can relate to this level of tired and I wanted to just peek into how we can support each other in such times as well. It's the little things right? 
> 
> Thanks as always, for reading!

Those days when you are absolutely certain in your own mind that you cannot physically ask your body to move another muscle. Where you stare at your own hand as though it belongs to a stranger and wonder if it will move if your brain tells it to. [Spoiler: you don’t think it will]

The days where the voices of others around you blur into some unintelligible noise, and they may be talking to you but you can’t hear it and, what’s more, you don’t care. 

The days where you think your lungs are failing because it just takes too much energy to draw in another breath, and that’s just when you’re standing. 

The days that sometimes blend into nights, depending on the circumstances, and you must keep going despite the fact that caf is a mere placebo at this point, and you would take a stim shot except that is frowned upon rather, except in extreme circumstances, and you’re not sure if these qualify. 

The days that you don’t believe it is possible to make it to your own quarters and it wouldn’t be entirely strange would it, if you were found asleep say in a------conference room, AT-AT, X-Wing, or lounge?

*****

A faction of the remaining Imperial loyalists had made a temporary alliance with the more violent divisions of the Black Sun, and sprung a surprise attack on the Lady as she travelled back from a solo mission to Kashyyyk. 

The strategy had not been entirely devoid of merit---every enemy ship they faced had simultaneously fired their ion cannons at the Lady, and it was enough to stagger even her mighty shields and weapons. 

It had been a fraught couple of hours---trying to get communications through to the rest of the fleet for reinforcements, scrambling their fighters when the bay shield was sparking and fritzing and they had to time getting through it at the risk of crashing themselves into the barrier.

Half the weapons needed to be started up again, and engines were at half capacity as the Lady rerouted power to other needed locations, like shields. 

Thank the  _ Force _ his lordship had been aboard, and was able to completely handle the fighter side of things with his son. 

Veers had ordered all of his men to serve as back up emergency response teams and all of his engineers he had sent to Baldwin in the vast engine bays to see if they could give a hand to the overworked men and women there. 

Piett was living on the bridge, as Kelly had been wounded in that first devastating blast, and was in one of many overworked sickbays at the moment. 

Solo was providing skilled back-up to the fighters defending the areas with weaker shielding while her highness was speaking with the Lady herself, and relaying that information to both Piett and Baldwin so they could more effectively direct the battle and repairs respectively. 

Communications weren’t able to get through until the battle was almost over. They were informed that back up was coming, but it would be 10 hours before they could get the sort of help needed for an 19 kilometer warship. 

So they had to endure. 

*****

This was, Luke reflected, among the top three worst battles he’d been a part of when it came to losses. He hadn’t expected that with the Lady. He, and likely others, had started to believe that it wasn’t really possible to cause too much damage to their massive sentient Star Destroyer. However, it seemed there were those in the galaxy pondering ways to do just that. 

In the end, they had been successful in fighting off the attack, but the costs had been high and Luke felt the weariness in his bones. 

And he was a Jedi. He could only imagine how the others without the Force were doing. 

He rested his helmeted head on the console of the X-Wing as his canopy slid back. 

[You are not injured, Artoo commented, scanning him.]

“No,” Luke replied, wondering that he was able to still form intelligible words with his mouth. “Just exhausted, Artoo.”

[I am not, Artoo pointed out.]

“Thank you, Artoo,” Luke responded into his console. “Terrifically helpful.”

[J is likely exhausted, Artoo observed, swivelling his camera to watch Wedge slowly emerging from his ship, the green astromech behind him. I will demonstrate that I am not exhausted for him. It will no doubt encourage him.]

Artoo lifted out of the cockpit with his booster rockets and landed in a more or less smooth fashion on the deck.

_ His astromech…..some days honestly…. _

Luke slowly took off his helmet and began to make his way down the ladder. He had exerted himself in the Force almost non-stop and, while it had been effective, he was feeling the effects of that now.

He staggered at the bottom, but then a strong arm was around him and he found himself leaning into the tall form of his Father. 

“You did well today, young one,” he said, moving them both out of the bay and toward Luke’s quarters. 

Luke’s brain was still catching up with the fact that he had made it out of his fighter. 

“Ah…...thank you. Sorry, Father…..I’m...”

“I know son, you expended yourself greatly on the behalf of your pilots. I felt it. You should not overdo that, Luke, what if you….?”

Anakin trailed off and Luke felt his Father’s concern and love in the Force.

“I’m all right,” he mumbled. “Lost a lot of pilots even so. Would have been worse if you weren't here.”   
  


The ex-Sith sighed. “This was a…..challenging conflict. The Lady is still processing it as well. Come my son, you need to rest.”

And they were in his quarters. Luke didn’t recall making it here, nor did he remember much of shucking his flight suit with his Father’s help.

He  _ did _ remember a durasteel hand tucking the blanket around him and touching his hair lightly.

His Father had put him to bed. And he was grown now, but the little boy in him went to sleep content and safe.

  
  


*****

Veers finished consulting with Ellery---and how many times had they done that in the last 18 hours?----and turned, stumbling slightly in the fog that clouded his mind, toward the turbolift.

It had been deeply tempting to just pass out in the chair in his office, but some logical part of him still operating, pointed out that his body would thank him for his bed. 

The lift seemed to take forever and he studied the rivets in the floor plating with highly focused interest. 

There were 15 on this side but he was reasonably sure there were 16 down the row over there. Or maybe 15? Maybe his eyes weren’t working? 

It took him a moment to recall that A: he didn’t care and B: the lift doors were standing open on his deck. 

He moved out and down the corridor, almost feeling as if he was drunk, he was focusing so hard on making sure his feet moved the right way and he didn’t miss his quarters. 

When the doors hissed shut behind him he paused because something was different, but he literally could not figure out what it was. 

“Max.  _ Stars _ , you look like you fought your AT-AT and lost.”

Oh that was it. The fleet Admiral was in his quarters, the one who happened to be his closest friend.

“What…..areyoudoing here?” he slurred as Piett came to him,and took his arm to guide him to his sleeping area.

“Ellery commed me to tell me you might not make it to your quarters so I took a moment. I can’t stay long.”   
  


His much shorter friend was taking his weight, and guiding him to sit on his bed so that he could kneel to tug off the General’s boots and toss them to the side. It was Piett however, and Veers was distantly amused when he looked at the boots, tried to resist, and gave in to go and neatly place them in the closet. 

“Water,” Piett commanded, pointing to a glass and pitcher on the nightstand and Veers obeyed, realizing that he was in the rare state of exhaustion that didn’t have him arguing with the Admiral. 

Piett undid his jacket for him with all his naval efficiency, and laid it over a chair before gently pushing at Veers. 

But the General could not succumb to sleep yet. 

“Wha’ bout you?” he asked, resisting Piett’s friendly shove. “I know you, Firmus, gonna collapse on….thebridge.”

“I get energy knowing that my people are safe and cared for, Max. Don’t worry.”

Veers wanted to tell him it was part of his job to worry about Piett, that everyone should make it their job really, but he was tipping over and  _ oh _ . That was his pillow. He loved his pillow. He wondered if it would consider a permanent relationship. 

A blanket being tugged to his shoulder, and a friendly hand resting there.

“Thank you for everything, Max. Sleep. I’ll see you soon.”

He trusted Piett implicitly and so he slept.

  
  


*****

Piett handed the bridge to Venka, and managed to walk in a straight line down the central walkway to the exit before he paused just outside the atrium to place a steadying hand on the bulkhead and take a deep breath, because he couldn't recall the last time he’d done so. 

But he had held the bridge until the reinforcements had arrived and Venka had somehow magically known that he was needed on the bridge of the Lady. 

Hmmm. Possibly the Lady herself sending communications that weren’t authorized. She had done that at least once before to the Vice-Admiral. He would need to talk to her about not being so free with that.

Right now though….. which direction were his quarters? Also, should he really be required to walk all the way there? 

These were deep thoughts, and he stood pondering them until he realized that he had been in the same spot for at least 10 minutes.

He moved forward once more and had the happy realization that his conference room was  _ so _ much closer than his quarters. 

Yes. He could collapse there and no one would be the wiser.

He entered and paused, having entirely forgotten that this had been the headquarters for her highness as she relayed the Lady’s information to himself and the Chief. She had subsequently been fielding calls with Coruscant and High command. 

“Admiral? Did you need me?”

_ He always needed her. Silly question, dear girl. No wait. Not what she was asking.  _

“I was just…..how are you?”

_ Perhaps he could make it to his quarters then. He felt very defeated by that distance.  _

She looked tired and said so.

“I can order you a caf….” he began.

But he was interrupted in this thought as she rose stiffly and came across the room to look into his face searchingly. Then she shook her head at him.

“Admiral dear, if you wanted to collapse in here, you should have just said. Did you  _ just _ get off the bridge?”

Somehow this sounded as though he might have done something wrong, but he was already nodding.

“Kriff. Over here and sit.”

And he was being shepherded to one of the sofas. They were very comfortable---he should know---- it was his conference room.

“I will be interfering with your work, my dear…”

“No. No, I'm done as well. I can’t talk about casualties any further without…..” She stopped and moved around turning off holopads and comlinks before returning to where he sat staring numbly at the far wall and perched beside him.

His brain prodded him toward the fact that she could use comfort as well, and he had his arm over her shoulders in reflex. 

“I….haven’t dared to ask recently…..our casualties….”

She leaned into him. “We can discuss that in a few hours, Admiral of mine. We both need to rest and you know we won’t if we’re obsessing about that.”

“And...the Lady?”

His ship flashed her white light at him.

“She is being repaired well, and wants you to rest.”

He smiled, feeling the effort it took his facial muscles.

“She  _ said _ that…..?”   
  


“Yes, actually.” She sat up stiffly. 

“How long do you have, Admiral?”   
  


“What?”

“How long are you off duty? As in long enough for the boots to come off, or….?”

_ Right. That would be lovely not to be wearing boots. _

“Long enough,” he managed, and she was tugging them off and he was undoing his jacket. She kicked off her own boots.

“Where’s Solo?” his tired brain managed to note.

“Han passed out on the Falcon. Landed and promptly told me he was not able to get off the ship. He’s fine,” she added swiftly, “I checked. Just exhausted.”

“The word of the day,” Piett agreed as she nudged him to lie down, and he felt a throw covering him as she placed herself at the other end of the sofa, stretching her feet out onto an ottoman and placing his legs over her lap. 

_ Force it felt wonderful to stretch out. It also felt wonderful to have someone looking out for his well being. He didn’t deserve her. _

“Lady?” his princess said, “dim the lights please?”

And the ship complied as her highness patted his knee and settled back to be comfortable. 

For a while, they could rest. 

  
  
  



	78. Dinner with the Skywalkers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Every once in a while our people have dinner together. Trust Han and Luke to want to hear stories.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this one definitely went for some humor, but because anything involving Anakin in this AU means some dosage of angst, my brain got a little more serious at the end. In a good way I think. It's mostly fluff and embarrassing stories for Piett and Veers! :) 
> 
> And Vader sees all.

“The thing is,” said Solo, leaning back in his chair and putting his arm around the princess who was seated next to him, “you all are fairly well informed on our exploits, but we don’t know all that much about what you were up to in the last four years or so.”

“I can’t help it if Imperial intelligence was more effective than its Rebel counterpart, Solo,” Veers told him, raising an eyebrow and reaching for his wine glass. 

Skywalker sighed, seated on Veers’ right. “I can’t argue too much there, but we had some decent information. Han’s right, though. What was it like, for example General, to work with the Captain of the Lady?” 

Across from the young Jedi, Piett raised his eyebrows as he finished his nerf steak. 

And at the head of the table, their commander chuckled. 

On rare occasions, when his Lordship visited, they had dinner in his quarters around a large dining table that he had installed at some point in the last two years. It was still somewhat strange for Veers, and no doubt Piett as well, to recall what Darth Vader’s chambers had looked like before they all started working with the Rebels. Sorry. The Alliance.

The Skywalkers were here more often as a family, but both the princess and his Lordship had extended the invitation to himself and Firmus more often, and it was…. _ nice _ , for lack of a better word, Veers supposed, to be included---to be reminded what a family dinner had felt like. For Piett, there was the novelty of having a family dinner at all. 

And it could be awkward, or argumentative or odd, but somehow he always left feeling as though a part of him had been filled. 

Tonight had been very pleasant, and even Solo had resisted baiting either the ex-Sith or Veers himself. 

They had fresh fruit and an assortment of cheese with which to end the meal from the last planet on which they had stopped to resupply.

Piett had spent at least 9 hours discussing allotments with his various captains, and finally apportioned everything to most everyone’s satisfaction. It also meant he was rather knackered, but he had clearly appreciated the good food and wine and the princess was anticipating his needs, utilizing her powers to fill his glass or pass him more of the fresh green litzel beans. Veers had eaten an almost embarrassing amount of those as they didn’t often have fresh tender beans like that, seasoned nicely and accompanying his nerf steak. 

So the mood around the table was rather content, and Skywalker helped himself to some of the soft cheese and grapes as Veers pondered answering the young Jedi’s question. 

He glanced at Piett who was now sitting back with his wine glass and looking relaxed, so the General decided to indulge the commander. 

“Mm. Well, the early days of Captain Piett at the helm of the Lady could be…..amusing.”

Piett started to look less relaxed and raised an eyebrow.

“He was still learning her after all and realizing just what she was. The Lady of course, was quite certain that he was hers and they found the way to communicate with the lights early on. I can tell you, from the outside perspective, it was odd to see Firmus looking at the ceiling so frequently.”

Piett sighed into his glass. “I did  _ try _ to be subtle about it. I was really glad when she figured out how to use the datapad for most of that.”

Solo shook his head. “It’s still taking me some getting used to when I hear that  _ she _ had that idea.”

And the princess snorted a laugh.

They looked at her. “Sorry,” she said. “The Lady had a thought on Han’s intelligence and….I’m sorry, her humor is getting more like yours, Admiral, all the time.” She patted Piett’s arm as Solo looked indignant. 

“And  _ that _ is even stranger, your Worship.”

“I’m not sure if that’s a compliment or not,” the Admiral stated, reaching for some hard yellow cheese. 

“But you asked about working with the good Captain, commander,” said Veers not to be deterred.

_ You’re not getting out of storytime, Firmus. They should know more about the man you are.  _

“Even then, Piett was very clear that his crew and his ship came first, and his well being second.”

“Oh  _ stars _ ,” groaned his friend, seeing where this train of thought was going. 

“I believe, correct me if I’m wrong, Firmus, but I  _ believe _ , you have nearly passed out on the bridge, four times?”

Piett opened his mouth and was cut off by the former Dark Lord.

“Five.”   
  


All of them looked at him and he waved a hand. 

“Carry on General, I don’t wish to interrupt.”

_ His Lordship had kept track as well? _   
  


“Ah, right. So five then. But one of them I was fortunate enough to be there for.”   
  


“Max….there are so many reasons why this story shouldn't be told…..”

But Veers could tell he had a very keen audience now. 

“I have to hear this if you feel that strongly about it, Admiral. Stories that shouldn’t be told are _just_ my thing,” said Solo happily, refilling his wine. 

Piett shot him a nasty look, and the princess snickered again. 

“Our bold Captain was utterly delirious with fever. But did he go to sickbay? No, because others were already ill, and he was keen not to appear as though he couldn’t handle being Captain of the flagship.”

Piett sat up and the princess was already sending him a wine bottle. 

“Thank you, my dear.”   
  


“The thing about Piett is, he’s so ridiculously competent that even delirious, the Lady was running ship shape. This was before she really communicated with me, so I didn’t know anything was wrong until I came to stand by him and realized just how glassy his eyes were and he was definitely flushed.”   
  


“Could have just not slept,” Piett murmured, rubbing his forehead.

“No, that’s the current situation,” his princess said, patting his shoulder fondly. 

“I was trying to be subtle and get him off of the bridge, but he was an utterly a stubborn b---ahem, he’s incredibly stubborn and he wished to share his thoughts with me. Uncensored. While Darth Vader was across the way.”

Piett buried his face in his hands, and Solo looked like his birthday had come early. 

“Oh,” he breathed, “oh how I wish that had been recorded…”

The ex-Sith shot the smuggler a look that had him sit back a little. Skywalker was grinning and the princess was rubbing Piett’s back.

“I’m reminding myself why we’re friends at the moment, Max” came the Admiral’s muffled voice in his hands.

“Well one reason would be me getting you off the bridge, still conscious. But first he wanted me to know that Lord Vader’s breathing was too loud and it was giving him a headache.”   
  


Skywalker burst out laughing. 

“After trying to keep him from expounding on that thought, I mentioned that perhaps he should go inspect a hangar bay. To which the Captain replied in a supremely serious voice that it was too kriffing far and maybe _I_ should inspect it.”

“You swore on the bridge, Captain?” Solo asked in mock horror.

“I’m thinking about it now too,” Piett responded, sitting up to glare at the General. 

“Admiral dear…”

“Now here’s the best part,” Veers continued, “because his Lordship came over just as the Captain wondered aloud why all of us couldn’t have capes with our uniforms, in order to be just as dramatic.”

Solo choked on his wine, wheezing and coughing with laughter. 

And their commander….smiled. 

“I recall that.”

“Oh kriffing  _ hell _ , shoot me now,” Piett moaned piteously.

Veers smiled. “I always wondered if you’d heard that my Lord or if you chose to ignore it. Now I know. But if you knew, why didn’t you order him off the bridge? Surely you could have sensed he was ill.”

“I was about to when you came in, General. And you have always done a very creditable job of looking out for Piett. Besides, it was very funny.”

“You  _ knew _ ?” Piett was looking outraged as Skywalker, his sister and Solo all tried to recover. “You _heard_ me….?”

“Admiral, there were very few things that could make me smile then, under the mask. As I intended for you to receive medical attention, whether at my order or the urging of your friend, I confess to indulging in listening to my most reserved and polite officer be so very amusingly unguarded.”

“ _ Skywalkers _ ,” Piett sighed, and their commander chuckled as the princess filled his friend’s glass again. 

“All right, turnabout’s fair play, Admiral,” said the princess. “Tell us a story of working with General Veers.”

Piett sipped his wine and considered. His friend was very patient after all, and wasn’t likely to….

“All right.”   
  


_ Or maybe he would.  _

“It may surprise you to know, given how very thick Max’s skull is, that he  _ can _ get concussions.”

“Rude,” put in Veers, helping himself to a generous slice of that sharp purple cheese and enjoying it with the fruit.

Solo was enjoying this too much as well.

“So while his lack of filter was not around  _ you _ , my Lord, it was most definitely present around the then Admiral Ozzel.”

“Delicious,” breathed Solo.

_ And Veers actually didn’t recall all of this clearly, but had been shown a recording from the Lady. He hoped Firmus would keep that part secret.  _

“He and the Herd had just returned from a rather difficult encounter and he couldn’t be persuaded to go to sickbay yet. I had come down because, well…..”

“Because you also look out for Veers, Admiral,” said the former Dark Lord, and he smiled at his friend. 

“Well, ahem, quite, my Lord. And the Admiral was there mostly to be as obnoxious as possible to Veers about the fact that the naval engagement had been more successful, no thanks to him, may I add…”

Veers raised his eyebrows. Piett must have felt strongly about that engagement to be so blunt.

Skywalker offered him the wine bottle and Veers accepted. This story called for it after all. 

“Ozzel came in as pompously as he could…..”

“Which was a lot,” muttered Veers.

“And looked at Veers, who was tired and concussed and dirty, and said ‘Not the best showing for the army then, General?’”

Solo whistled and the princess had wide eyes.

“And Veers marched up to him and got about two inches from him so he could really impose the height difference, but he was swaying slightly because his balance was off…”

“Concussions aren’t all  _ that _ funny, Firmus,” Veers put in as Piett was starting to grin at the memory.

“Neither is fever,” Piett shot back. “Shush, I’m telling the story and you’re ruining the flow. Anyway, Veers was right in Ozzel’s face and all of us were terrified he was going to hit him…”

“Did it before,” muttered Veers.

Piett shot him a smile for that, because yes he had, and it had been in defense of the Admiral. 

“And instead he barked out in that clipped parade way he has, you know….”

“I don’t,” Veers said, but Solo  _ and _ his commander were nodding. 

“I HATE your mustache, you over promoted sack of hot air.”

Solo was in fits once more and the princess was giggling.

“Yes,” nodded Piett, “you see your reaction, and I hope you can imagine the suffering I was going through,  _ not _ having that reaction right there.  _ Stars _ , it was funny. And all the men in hearing distance were imploding trying to contain their laughter.”

Veers drank his wine and shook his head. 

“It’s a pity I don’t remember more of that.”

“Ozzel turned purple, and I got you out of there before he could draw breath to really create a scene where you would have hit him.”

“Well thank you for that, Piett,” Veers told him and his friend smiled.

“Always.”

“What about you, Father?” Skywalker said, turning to the tall form at the end of the table who raised an eyebrow at his son. “Stories serving with these two?”

And Veers suddenly felt his stomach swoop.  _ What was the boy doing?  _ He could see that Piett was having a similar reaction and doing his best to keep a neutral face. 

Everyone at the table knew that Anakin Skywalker was trying to atone for all he had done in the mask. What could he say that wasn’t a bad memory for him?

But apparently, once again, Skywalker and his undying optimism could inspire his Father always.

The former Dark Lord smiled at his son and had another slice of melon. 

“Well. There are innumerable stories with these gentlemen. I cannot pick one off hand at the moment.”

Veers could almost see Piett’s tension bleed away and he had some more cheese.

“So I think you should know about them more generally, from my perspective.”

_ Oh well nine hells this was going to be interesting. _

“I was deliberately cultivating Death Squadron with men who were competent and whom I could trust. I was pleased to get then Colonel Veers who had proven himself and did much for the army. I decided to see how a certain Captain did by transferring him from his ship to the Lady, as I suspected he might have some good qualities.”   
  
He paused and Veers noted his rapt audience. Piett was flushing already and unsure of what was coming.

“What I had not expected was the friendship between them which withstood even Ozzel’s worst attempts to cause discord, and went a very long way indeed to have the Imperial forces work in tandem rather than in competition.”

“Thank you, my Lord,” Veers murmured. This was not what he had expected. 

“While I abhorred that mask, it did have the advantage of people assuming somehow, that I couldn’t see everything in it.”

Piett shifted and glanced at Veers.

“For example,” their commander continued, smiling a little in their direction, “I believe you always thought I wouldn’t know you had given yourself numerous double shifts during the Lydda campaign, Piett, so that you could personally ensure I wouldn’t be…. _ displeased _ with the crew.”

Piett’s face revealed this to be true.

“You knew of course, General, which is why you happened to be on the bridge for various petty reasons and always with a flask of tea for our Captain here.”

The princess was smiling at him fondly.

“And of course, Captain Piett never failed to take aside Sergeant….Ellery I believe? Yes, Ellery, and admonish him to watch out for Veers right before each campaign the Herd embarked upon.”

Piett was gaping at him now.

“You see?” said his Lordship, pointing that finger in a chiding manner, “you didn’t think I knew.” He grinned. “I knew everything that went on aboard the Lady.”

Piett sighed longsufferingly having heard this many times before.

“However,” and their commander’s face became serious. “While I was….. _ blind _ and wrong about so many things, as you all know…”

Veers looked around, seeing understanding on the princess’s face, sympathy on Skywalker’s and Piett’s, and careful neutrality on Solo’s.

“....the brotherhood between the Admiral and the General here was an anchor, and played a not insignificant part in keeping Death Squadron together, as well as opening my eyes to my folly.”

Veers didn’t know what to say to such an enormous commendation and Piett was looking down at the table.

“I’m very grateful to you both,” said the ex-Sith, and Veers was actually getting a light pat on the back from Luke Skywalker while Piett had his hand gripped by the princess. 

Sometimes family meals could be awkward, or argumentative, or odd.

And sometimes---like tonight----they were a warm reminder of why they were your people. 


	79. Sharing the load

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit short and bittersweet. Leia finds herself alone on the anniversary of Alderaan's destruction. Our Admiral can't have that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've always thought this would be so overwhelming to try and deal with. And of course, if Leia is anything like many of us, I think she'd struggle with survivor's guilt and blaming herself. But if you're trying to be the strong leader, when do you address it? 
> 
> Here's an opportunity

How does one go about mourning an entire planet? The genocide of billions? Is it possible to process? 

Or is it better to stick to small details---little things that give a glimpse at the soul of culture? Things that are easier for the brain to process, and mean more than a vague and gigantic whole?

Leia rather thought that was how she did it. Each year, she could add more detail to her grief, paint a fuller picture in her mind of what she had lost. Because if she tried to think of it all as a whole planet she was too numb. 

If she tried to think of every detail at once, the pain was too crushing. So each year, on the anniversary of her planet’s destruction, she allowed herself to think of a few more things that didn’t exist anymore except in her mind, and the minds of the few survivors around the galaxy. 

Stunning waterfalls. The unique smell of the tropical flowers that grew in the lush climate. The flocks of white birds that could be so numerous one could be forgiven for thinking it had snowed on some of the fields where they had landed. 

The stunning snow capped mountains. Sledding on the foothills as a child. The way the market smelled when her mother took her and they greeted the populace and shopped the local vendors. If Leia closed her eyes she could easily picture the streets with their colorful booths and brightly clad people, showing the young princess what they had made or grown. 

She opened them again and stared out at innumerable stars from her perch in the Alliance lounge on the Executor. Somewhere out there was the graveyard of Alderaan. She drew her knees up to her chin and wrapped her arms around her legs. The last two anniversaries, Han had joined her, but he had been sent on a mission with Luke and she was glad to know the two of them had each other’s backs but, selfishly, it meant she was alone for this day. 

She was aware that there were other Alderaanian survivors in the fleet, but she also knew that they all mourned this loss differently. And as their former princess, she did not wish to intrude. Indeed, as she had been reminded today, there were some who even considered the destruction of their world her fault. 

_ She had paused and said hello to Baldwin in the mess at the caf machine.  _

_ She had noted the man watching her with red rimmed eyes, face lined with loss, but had chosen not to stare back and appear confrontational. She was used to a great deal of attention--it had been the nature of her life. But suddenly he was there and Baldwin was trying to keep him back. _

_ “Was it worth it?” the man asked her, tears on his face now. “Did you even pause to consider what your actions could do?” _

_ He was much too far in her personal space now and Baldwin was interposing himself as two men (they seemed to be his friends) were coming up to try and pull him away. _

_ “What….what do you mean?” she’d stammered, not understanding.  _

_ “They killed our planet because of you! Because you were using your position!” _

_ And her whole body felt cold as the men succeeded in pulling him away and apologizing profusely to her. _

_ “Lost his whole family, you know. I mean, most people did.” said one of the friends as though she didn’t know what that loss was like.  _

_ “Yes,” she’d whispered. “Tell him I’m sorry.”  _

_ “Are you all right, your highness?” Baldwin had asked kindly and she had nodded and left the mess hall.  _

  
  


She didn’t recall how long she had been sitting here, or indeed, even how long she had  _ been _ here. 

Part of her wanted to rage at the other survivors. Had  _ they _ been there? Had they been held against Vader’s black bulk and forced to  _ watch _ ?

Tarkin and his pompous little way of looking down his nose at her. Vader’s breathing behind her. And her last view of that green and blue orb……

She shivered and a steaming mug was held in front of her face. Automatically she raised her hands to take it, and then a warm throw was placed around her shoulders and he was sitting next to her, his arm drawing her to his side. 

“I hear from the Chief that you had a less than pleasant experience today,” Piett said and tears were welling in her eyes, so she took a sip of the cocoa he had given her to give herself a moment to gather control. 

“He was very kind,” she replied after a moment. “And no it wasn’t pleasant, but I understand.”

She sipped the cocoa, deeply grateful that her Admiral understood when to just be there and not say anything. He’d brought her favorite throw from his quarters to tuck around her. 

When she was nearly finished, a thought struck her.

“Weren’t you running fleet drills for about 16 hours today? You must be exhausted.”

“Mm. I won’t deny it. But I’m sitting now, which is grand in itself, and I’m with one of my favorite people: both things a cure for exhaustion.”

She couldn’t look at his eyes because she knew she would see his love and compassion and she would break. Some part of her still felt as though that was not allowed. That the princess/Senator/Rebel was not allowed to weep, that she did not deserve it, that she had brought this on herself, that leaders cannot show weakness. 

She set her empty mug down on the table in front of them and realized there was a small pot on the table as well, filled with….

“Are….did you find...starflowers?” she whispered, touching the tiny blue flowers that had once grown so prolifically outside the palace on Alderaan. 

“I did. Took a little hunting as they are quite rare now, but there was a lovely vendor on Naboo…..”

He trailed off as she choked on a sob.

_ Her Admiral. Who loved her so well. _

And the gates of her grief were destroyed, as she gasped and shuddered with her tears. 

Piett had both arms around her now, allowing her to drench his uniform, and murmuring comfort into her hair. 

“I’m sorry,” she managed to gasp at last, “I’m sorry I just….I can’t…”

“Darling girl, you have nothing to be sorry for,” he told her firmly, tightening his hold on her. “You are allowed to mourn and weep. Force knows it might help you to do it more often. Holding it in is not…..healthy.”

_ And he would know. She knew something of his own tragedy of a childhood---the losses he had suffered. _

A mousedroid skidded up to her and nudged her boot with a box of tissues on its top. Piett must have summoned it.

“Thank you,” she said, taking them, and mopping at her no doubt red and blotchy face. She felt awkward, as one does after a passionate and uncontrollable show of emotion in front of someone else, but Piett drew her close once more, stretching to rest his legs on the table and allowing them both a more comfortable position. 

“I don’t know how to mourn a planet, dearest Admiral. It’s too big. So….I mourn the small things that made it what it was,” she tried to explain. “And even then, I try not to do too much or I am….”

“....crushed,” he finished for her softly and she’d known he could understand, and brought a hand up to rest on his arm. 

“Yes. And I can’t even begin to start thinking about who stood behind me and made me watch, because we’ve made such progress, but this….”

He sighed. “Quite. I have no wisdom for you there. Perhaps, my dear, you could tell me some of your memories of your planet? I never saw it.”

She hesitated, and knew Piett felt it. But rather than change the subject, or grow stiff, he continued, “I….do know that doing that with someone else can be a challenge. But I think it helps for someone to see what you saw. May…...may I tell you a little about….”   
  


And he paused, and she could feel his heart beating more rapidly, but he steeled himself. 

“.....about my sister, Rilla?”

She had never heard her name before and knew immediately which sister it was. And he was willing to share that with her. She marvelled anew how a man with a nature and heart like his had managed to rise to the rank of Admiral in such a cruel and corrupt system as the Empire. 

“Of course,” she replied, content to listen to his heartbeat. 

“She was the oldest and liked to remind us of that fact frequently. I didn’t mind---I quite liked the reminder that there was someone older than I was looking out for us----but my middle sister resented it. They had some spectacular fights.”

She knew he had smiled at the memory. 

“Where were you in the line up, Admiral?” she asked.

“I was the third,” he responded, “and I didn’t mind, though I always wished I was taller. Still an issue, I suppose.” 

And she smiled and patted his chest. “I understand.”

He chuckled and she looked up to his face to see it grow sober again. “She had….brown eyes and they were so….. _ expressive _ . I remember thinking that she would have been a great actress. She was very persuasive, much like you, my dear, though she had no greater ambitions outside of Axxila. And…. we both….” his voice became slightly hoarse and she found his right hand and gripped it. 

“....we both loved to look at the stars. Me because I wanted to be in them, and her because she loved the constellations and the stories they told.” 

He stopped and she was so grateful to him for that little piece of himself.

“Thank you, Admiral,” she said, and she did indeed have a picture in her head of a little boy and his big sister looking at the night sky, and found that she both mourned for him and appreciated the memory he had painted for her. She could reciprocate. 

“I try to remember different things about Alderaan every year,” she began. “I …..add them to what I already think about. Have you seen any holos of it?”

He nodded. “Some.”

“It was so beautiful. Sometimes I…..forget that it’s not there. I saw it happen, but I can forget.”

“Yes,” he said simply, in a voice that understood. 

“I can smell smells that don’t exist anymore and it’s very odd. The rainforest smelled so exquisite. Spicy and fresh at the same time.” She moved her head to see his face.

“Your tree collection reminds me of it sometimes.” He smiled down at her. 

“In a good way, I hope.”

She tightened the hand she had on his arm. “Admiral dear, all the things I associate with you are good.”

He snorted and she couldn’t explain why that familiar sound eased some of the pain in her soul, but it did. 

“I…..miss my adopted mother,” she said softly, “and it’s strange as I get to know who Padme’ Amidala was more intimately because I  _ long _ for my real mother.”

She paused. “But my adopted mother was lovely and kind and so easy to talk to. And suddenly, she was gone. I’d been on missions for several years at that point, and had barely seen her. And, just….”

“Gone,” he finished, and again, he knew what that was like.

_ The Force had known she needed him.  _

“And…. there are other survivors, but I don’t really talk to them. Because….because….” and this was the part she was terrified to face---hadn’t said out loud before.

“Because what if it  _ was _ my fault?” she whispered. 

“No.”

“I made the planet a target. I was their princess, their diplomat….”

“No.” His hold on her was so tight as to nearly be painful. “Never allow yourself to think that. I understand it my dearest girl, I do, but it is not on your shoulders. That evil is squarely on Tarkin and the Empire. They created that atrocity and it was always intended for genocide. He  _ wanted _ to use it.”

She heard the passionate contempt in his voice. 

“You were placed in an impossible situation. And  _ you _ , my favorite princess, you made the difficult choice to stand on the side of the right. The cost for doing that is sometimes unbearably high.”

_ She knew that he understood that personally. Had suffered for it as well. _

“It could have been Dantooine, or Corellia, or some other world. But the Empire had long wanted to get rid of the Alderaanian thorn in its side and that was not on  _ you _ . Your whole world bravely stood against the Emperor.”

It was a release to hear him say that. To speak one of her greatest fears aloud. 

She was very tired suddenly, and relaxed bonelessly against him, grateful beyond words. Well. Not all words.

“I love you,” she said, and smiled at the happiness that placed on his countenance. 

“Mutual,” he told her, and kissed the top of her head. 

They sat quietly for a long time, watching the stars. 


	80. Lord Vader Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So this is a prompt from guepard54 requesting that Luke work with Piett between the incident at Bespin and He Who Sheds His Blood With Me. 
> 
> Vader poked in and wanted to be included so here 'tis.
> 
> And it turned into a MONSTER one shot lol. But I had fun with the three of them. Hope you enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vader goes after a Sith artifact to use to defeat Palpatine. That always goes well right?

Lord Vader was missing.

Well. Not missing exactly. Piett knew where he was supposed to be. But he had not checked in when he said he would.

Piett tried to comm him.

He tried again six hours later.

He did so every six hours until Lord Vader was 24 hours past what he had told Piett. 

_ Kriff it.  _

The Admiral considered his options. 

He could take the Lady herself to retrieve his commander, but given that his Lordship was on a highly sensitive mission involving a Sith artifact, he didn’t think he’d appreciate that.

He could send a small retrieval team, but he shoved that thought aside even as it happened. Again, the mission was too classified. And by too classified he meant that only he and Vader knew about it. 

Which brought him squarely facing the option he’d known he would have to choose. 

Piett would need to retrieve him. 

He commed Kelly to let him know that he too would be heading off ship, and then contacted Veers and asked him to meet in the hangar bay which housed the Admiral’s shuttle.

_ This would be a very terrible conversation. Because Veers was going to hate his decision. _

Sure enough, as soon as Veers strode into the bay and saw Piett standing in front of his shuttle with a small duffel, the General clenched his hands and moved swiftly to him. 

“And just what, Firmus, do you plan on doing? I am sincerely hoping that it includes me and that is why you asked me here?”

Piett sighed and motioned them both inside the lamda.

Both officers went into the hold and Veers rounded on him immediately.

“This has to do with Lord Vader doesn’t it?”

“Yes,” Piett replied, “And it has to be just me, Max. I’m the only other one who knows….”   
  


“And I can’t be trusted with that?” Veers snapped.

_ I’m sorry, Max. Not my decision.  _

“Max, you know I trust you, but these are his direct orders. Would you have me compromise that?”

“When it involves you going on a solo mission which is undoubtedly dangerous? Yes!”

Piett gazed at him steadily. Given all that had transpired at Hoth and Bespin two months ago, he completely understood his friend’s trepidation. And he deeply appreciated his concern for the Admiral’s well being. 

But Veers didn’t know everything that Piett did. Yet.

_ Luke Skywalker is my son.  _

The General sighed. “Firmus, I appreciate that you’re in a kriffing tough position here. And you’re putting me in one too. I should cheerfully watch you head off into an unknown that our _Sith_ _commander_ hasn’t made it back from?”

“Veers.” Piett rubbed at the headache building behind his forehead. “I understand. I…..can only say that I am confident he intends to bring you into this. I just don’t know when. Until then, I…..do have some back up joining me.”

“Oh yes? Who?” Veers planted his hands on his hips.

“I…..”

“...can’t tell me.”   
  


Piett hated having to keep secrets from his closest friend. But given that he also knew Palpatine was a Sith, he didn’t want to risk whatever plan Vader had in the works, along with his Rebel son. 

“Max….” Piett pleaded, “I know this is terribly unfair. I would be feeling and saying the same things if our positions were reversed. I’ve sent encrypted coordinates to your computer. If I’m not back in 4 days, they will unlock and by all means, come and get us.”

The General closed his eyes. Then he nodded, opened his eyes and stared at his friend directly.

“Down to the second, Admiral. I will have the Lady revving her engines on a countdown.”

Piett smiled. “The Lady doesn’t ‘rev’ her engines, Max. And if it makes you feel better, she’s incredibly angry at me as well.”   
  


“Girl’s got sense.” 

Piett held out his hand and Veers clasped it in both of his firmly. “Please bear in mind, Firmus, that you are my brother.”

Piett was moved and cleared his throat. “Thank you, Max. Mutual.”   
  


There was really nothing more to say. Veers nodded and turned to leave the shuttle so that Piett could close the ramp.

He sighed and moved to the cockpit, dropping into the pilot’s seat and flicking the switches to warm up the engines. He pulled out the commlink Vader had given him and looked at it. He would need to wait to use it until he went to lightspeed.

He contacted the bridge and then the barrier opened, and he was away. 

  
  


*****

Once he set the auto-pilot, Piett grasped the commlink. It was likely the only piece of foresight that Vader had for this mission in giving it to Piett. Given the usual nature of his Lordship’s impulsive missions, he supposed he should be glad he even had this.

He flicked it on and waited a moment before a young voice answered.

“Father, we agreed to set times….”

“Apologies, Commander, but…”

“Admiral.”   
  


He was impressed with the boy’s memory. 

“Yes. Your Father gave me this commlink to use in case of emergency.”

A pause.

“And I take it that this is….”

“An emergency, I believe so, yes. I am on my way to attempt to retrieve him now. He went after a Sith artifact as he believed it may help in defeating the Emperor. That was over 48 hours ago. He was supposed to contact me 24 hours ago. I have set out to see if I can find him.”

“By  _ yourself _ ?”

The tone sounded remarkably like Veers’. 

Piett sighed. “As only I and your Father know why he was doing this, and as we are going up against a Sith Lord, what would you have me do, Skywalker?”

A snort. “The General didn’t like it either did he?”   
  


_ How could he know that? _ _   
  
_

“Are you in a position where you can help me or not, Commander? I confess I do not look forward to facing something that potentially disabled your Father, but I am willing to try.”

“Kriff. I wish you were on our side. Show some of our people what a spine looks like.”

  
  
Piett laughed. “Technically I  _ am _ on your side, Commander. Think of it that way.”

“Fair point.”

“I’ll be arriving in about five hours. When can you get here?” 

“Where is here, Admiral?”

“Vendusii sector. Little planet that isn’t on most maps.” Piett gave him the coordinates.

“I can be there in 16 hours at best, Admiral, I’m sorry.”   
  


_ Well, it was better than nothing. _

“Then I’ll see you in 16 hours. Contact me when you arrive.”

  
  
“I will. And….Admiral…”   
  


The boy paused.

“Thank you. I don’t entirely understand why you’re so loyal to him, but…..thank you. And good luck.”

“And you, Skywalker.”

So then. He had some back up. Eventually. 

Piett went into the hold and checked his supplies. Water, weapons, rations, a small amount of medical supplies. He knew it all by heart, but he needed something to do.

  
  


*****

“Nine hells!!!” Piett cursed, and swatted at the bugs that seemed to be permanently in his orbit. 

Of course,  _ of course _ this little backwater was mostly swamp. He had struggled to find a decently solid landing position and his best option still had four inches of water over the edge of the shuttle. 

It also meant he was much further from Lord Vader’s weak signal than he would have liked. But at least he had been able to track a faint life signature that was unique to his commander. He should be thankful for small mercies.

Though he really wasn’t sure how anything about this situation was something to be thankful for. Currently he was up to his thighs in swamp murk and Imperial officer uniforms were not made to withstand that sort of thing.

It was horrifically humid. He had assessed that back at the shuttle and taken off his jacket and cap to leave there. Even so, he was drenched in sweat, and had been contending with all sorts of insects for hours as he made his slow and muddy way toward Lord Vader’s position. He had his duffel over his back like a knapsack and drank water sparingly, not sure if Lord Vader would need some. Or how he would give it to him. 

Sith seemed to find the absolute worst hell holes in the galaxy to hide their little trinkets. He knew he was referring to them in pejorative terms---things that could kill average beings, or planets for that matter, weren’t trinkets, but he was feeling deeply resentful, and could call them that in his own mind he supposed. 

He’d had exactly one encounter with a Sith artifact and it had been horrific. Yet here was, heading for round two…. _ why _ exactly?

_ Because you are loyal to a fault. Because some part of you doesn’t like to think of Lord Vader out here on his own, potentially injured.  _

Because they were going to overthrow an evil Emperor and they couldn’t do that without Lord Vader.

He couldn’t argue with that. 

He stumbled suddenly and put out his hand, managing not to fall below the surface but realizing that he was in thicker sludge now as his hand came back covered in it.

Delightful.

_ You aren’t missing anything, Veers _ , he thought. 

He’d been trekking for about six hours when at last, the ground seemed to slope upward slightly. Yes, it was, and soon he was only in ankle deep muck. And what was his life that he found that a great relief?

He paused to wipe his hands on his sleeves and have some rations before he moved on. The sun was getting low in the sky and he had no desire to be caught without a secure camp for the night. Surely he was getting closer to Vader’s signal? 

The scanner seemed to be working sporadically as though something was interfering with it. 

_ Say…..a Sith artifact?  _ his brain provided. 

Well that was a pleasant thought. Piett was already exhausted and the idea of both an incapacitated Lord Vader  _ and _ a kriffing artifact was almost overwhelming. 

To distract himself, he checked his blaster to make sure he had kept it above the sludge, which he had. 

Finding Lord Vader was rather sudden. He rounded a clump of trees and nearly stumbled over a large black object propped against them. 

“Son of a Hutt!!”

It took his tired brain several seconds to realize that he had indeed literally stumbled over his commanding officer. 

“My Lord?” 

He knelt beside him, terrified for a moment that his worst fears were true and Lord Vader was dead. But then he realized he could hear the rasping breathing and the helmet canted very slightly to the side. 

“My Lord, how can I best help you?”

Piett knew next to nothing about Vader’s suit and hated feeling so helpless. 

“Ad….miral.”

He was reasonably sure it was a statement not a question. 

“Yes my Lord. I have water and food but… I apologize, I do not know how to… access your suit….” 

“You….. cannot. Give me…. water and turn around.”

Piett knew better than to question this order though he was concerned that the Dark Lord was not in his chamber. 

He pulled out a water bottle and gave it to his commander and then walked away a few paces with his back turned. 

It was difficult not to recall that moment in the asteroid field and the awfully scarred head in the hyperbaric chamber. Piett resolutely put that out of his mind and wondered instead how close Skywalker might be. 

“Admiral. You may return.”

And Piett obeyed to see Vader struggling (not a word he associated with his commander typically) to his feet. 

Wordlessly he came to his side and took one of the Sith Lord’s arms over his own shoulders. 

“Your son is coming, my Lord and my shuttle is….”

“ _ Luke _ ?!  _ Why _ did you contact him?”

And Piett swallowed but answered honestly.

“Because my Lord, you are on a very sensitive mission that involves something which has the potential to kill you, I hadn’t heard from you in 48 hours, and the Emperor could call any moment, while I’m just a human who is on the short side.”

A pause. 

Then a strange sound from the vocoder…….a  _ laugh _ ? Surely not, but Piett rather thought it might be.

“That is far from all you are, Piett. Where are you going?”   
  


The Admiral stopped, puzzled. “The shuttle is back this way, my Lord.”

“There is swamp that way, Admiral. I see you have brought most of it with you as well. There is a far less….damp route this way.”   
  


_ Well, wasn’t it nice that some of them had the Force to figure that out.  _ _   
  
_

“May I ask what happened, my Lord?” Piett shifted his grip. He was doing his best, but Vader was heavy and Piett was already exhausted.

“I found it,” his commander said.

“Ah. And….”

“It exploded.”

“How did you survive, my Lord?” Piett blurted.

“The….suit actually helped in this instance. But….I cannot use the Force, Admiral.”   
  


Piett nearly stopped in his shock, both at the loss of his commander's power and at the fact that Vader had shared it with him. 

The Dark Lord angled his helmet in his direction.

“You need to know that. If we…..get into a situation where you would expect me to use it.”

_ Yes. Yes, that was useful information.  _   
  


But Piett had a more pressing problem at the moment---the sun was going down and he himself was at the end of his stamina for the moment. 

“My Lord….”

“We need to stop, I am aware, Admiral. Over there. Where those four trees are growing together.”

Piett could see them---they made a natural enclosure, their large roots growing together to create a base to sit above the swampy muck and provided, if not great shelter, at least protection for their backs. 

He managed to support his Sith commander there and help him get situated, before he all but collapsed himself on the other side.

“More water, my Lord? I will of course, turn the other way.”

“Thank you, Piett.”

He did his best not to react to being  _ thanked _ by Lord Vader, handing him the water and turning. He had a little himself and ate half a ration bar.

When Vader gave the word, he turned around and leaned his aching back into the broad trunk behind him. 

“Sir….your loss of the Force…..is it permanent?”

He knew he was pushing boundaries, but he had to know for many reasons, the immediate ones having to do with getting off this damned planet. 

The helmet tilted toward him.

“I do not believe so. We need to get outside the radius of the blast. Then I believe it will return.”

  
  
“I do not see any damage my Lord, is….?”

“It was a Force blast, Admiral, it does not always leave physical signs. It weakened my suit’s functions as well, thus, why I could not rise until certain systems rebooted.”   
  


“Is there something I can do to try and repair it, sir?”

“Unfortunately not, Piett. I need Henley.”

They were silent for a time, when a thought hit Piett.

  
“My Lord if your power is dampened, will this also affect Commander Skywalker?”

Another sound from the vocoder that was difficult to interpret. A sigh?   
  


“Yes. So we hope he has regular ‘human’ equipment as you might put it, Admiral.”

_ Well nine hells. He was going to be stuck on a swampy Sith artifact planet with two Force users who couldn’t use the Force. Utterly fantastic. _

“Shall I take first watch, my Lord?”

He pulled his blaster and placed it on his lap, drawing up a knee and trying to ignore the raging headache.

A long silence and Piett wondered if he had been heard.

Then---”I am afraid you must, Admiral. I need to rest since the suit is not providing as much...support as I need.”   
  


Piett tried to quell the concern that gave him. 

“Very good, sir.”

Another long pause and Piett jumped when Vader spoke again, having thought him asleep.

“Piett. Do you think of yourself as…..’just human’?”

“Well….yes, my Lord. I do not have the Force.”

“You do though. You do not utilize it, nor are you aware of it, but all things have the Force in them, Admiral.”

  
  
_ Did they? Interesting fact.  _

“You do not need to wield the Force to be remarkable, Piett. But you don’t know how remarkable you are.”

_ What did he say to that? Was it a compliment? _

Suddenly, his commlink blared to life.

“Admiral. I’ve landed and I think I might have a lead on your position. Have you located my Father?”

Piett glanced at Lord Vader who held out an imperious gloved hand.

“Yes, Commander. Here he is.”

“Son. You will have to enter an area that will dampen your ability to use the Force. You should sense it if your training was worth anything at all.”

“And it’s good to hear from you too, Father.” 

Piett could hear the sarcasm from here.

“Young one, you need to be prepared…”

_ Was he shaking a Vader finger at a son who couldn't’ see it? He was. _ _   
  
_

A snort across the link. “Says the Sith who went on his own to use an artifact that could have killed him. Right. The best and only preparation you did was to alert your Admiral of your plan and give him this commlink.”

The helmet canted toward Piett who did his best to look as though he was utterly neutral.

“Quite so. I was prepared.”

“Oh  _ stars _ , Father. I’m about two hours from you. Try not to die in that time.” And the connection cut. 

Piett wondered if Vader was rolling his eyes under the helmet like a parent would with a cheeky teenager.

  
  


****

Luke adjusted his pack. This was all too similar to Dagobah and brought back quite a rush of memories. He had rolled his flight suit down to the waist much as he had in training with Yoda, but even in just his t-shirt this planet was suffocatingly humid and warm. And this was night.

Daytime must be hell. And his Father had been trapped here…..

And now he couldn’t use the Force. He had tried the moment he had cut the commcall and couldn’t.

Kriff. Why not? He wondered if it was something to do with the artifact. And it would make getting out of here a lot more difficult. 

He had landed near the Admiral’s shuttle, having easily detected it as he honed in on his Father’s transmitter.

This was turning out to be a fair hike. And if his Father was injured, he and Piett would have to carry him. His Father really needed to bring Veers in on their plan. At least then he could have someone taller to get him out of these situations, Luke reflected with grim humor. 

He glanced at his scanner and saw that it was fritzing. Likely he was getting closer then. His Father must have done something to this artifact.

And finally, an hour later, Luke saw them in the dim light of his small glowstick.

Piett rose stiffly from the tree roots they were perched on and flung out a hand to steady himself against the trunk.

“Commander. I take it your Father was correct, and you are unable to use the Force?”

“I’m afraid so.”

Piett reached into his own pack and picked out a small disk light that he twisted to turn on. Luke could see that the Admiral was filthy, far more than he himself. He must have come a different and far less pleasant way then. 

“Well,” said Piett. “Thank you for coming.”

“Of course. Father, how are you? What happened?” he asked, turning to the motionless black heap still sitting on the roots.

“The artifact exploded, leaving this Force dampening residue.”

“Messed with something you shouldn’t have then,” Luke said. His Father could really be unbelievable. 

“It was worth a try, my son.”

Luke could hear the weakness in his Father’s voice.

“What damage was done?” he asked knowingly. His Father canted his helmet toward his Admiral, who looked a bit shaky, but then, maybe he always looked like that. Luke realized his Father didn’t want to detail the damage in front of Piett.  _ Really _ ?

“Father, I think you can trust that both of us won’t exploit your weakness. Kriff we both just hiked through a swamp for you.”

Piett’s face was full of his distaste at that memory.

A sigh through the vocoder. “I….my legs are not working properly.”

_ Well that was a fun challenge. _

“All right. Well, we could all use some rest. I’m happy to sit up for awhile. I need to eat and drink something and Admiral, you seem as though you need to close your eyes. Father, I can’t tell with you, but I’m going to guess you need some kind of rest.”

He was troubled when neither of them argued.

*****

Morning presented the challenge of transporting a Sith Lord who was composed of a great deal of durasteel. It was Piett who suggested a travois, so Luke and the Admiral found the right sort of branches and bound them together sturdily with nylon rope from Luke’s pack. 

His Father hated the idea of being dragged by the two of them and mentioned this loudly and often, but Luke just exchanged glances with the Admiral and both carried on. 

He had liked Piett from the moment they’d met two months ago and his high opinion of the man was confirmed all the more by his presence here. Luke was worried though. The Admiral looked abnormally pale and then at other times, he seemed flushed. 

He had offered his Father water and then automatically turned away and Luke realized that his Father needed to lift his helmet to drink, so he too, turned.

_ What did he look like under there? Why was he wearing this suit? What had happened to leave him physically at the mercy of such an extensive life support system? _

After arguing his Father onto the travois, he and Piett and lashed him to it and each gripped a branch to begin the long walk back to the ships.

Piett had clearly gone through the very wettest part of the swamp, judging by where the stains on his clothes were.

“Admiral,” he said in a low voice, though he was reasonably sure his Father could hear, even in a compromised suit. “Are you unwell?”

Piett sighed and glanced at him. “I think I caught something slogging through that foul sludge. There’s antibiotics on the shuttle. I’ll be alright, Skywalker.”

Luke was doubtful, given the sheen of sweat on the Admiral’s face, but then the planet was disgustingly humid.

“I’m glad you commed me,” Luke told him.

“I can hear you, you know,” his Father commented behind them.

“Wasn’t trying to hide anything!” Luke called over his shoulder.

The Admiral managed a tired smile.

“I’m glad you came. What are we interrupting at the moment?”

Luke hesitated and had to remember that he was working  _ with _ these two men now. 

“I was working on scouting for some supply routes. I said I was following another lead.”

“The Rebels bought that excuse?” his Father asked, “how obtuse are the people you work with?”

Piett shook his head slightly.

“I’m working with  _ you _ at the moment,” Luke shot back, “what does that say?”

“That you are  _ entirely _ too reckless.”

Piett snorted and instantly looked panicked.

“Did you just mock me, Admiral?”

“No, my Lord, apologies, I….am not feeling myself.”

Luke grinned. “I do hear that I am reckless sometimes. But given what I have observed of  _ you _ , it runs in the family.”

“Young one….”

Piett stumbled and went to one knee.

Luke lowered his side carefully but swiftly to the ground and went to the Admiral.

“Sir. We can take a break.”

Piett lifted his head and his face was a very unhealthy white. But his hazel eyes were determined.

  
  
“We need…...to get beyond this…..Force free area first, Commander.”

“Piett, if my son says you should rest, then you should listen.”

“With respect, my Lord,” said Piett, making it to his feet and reaching to tug a uniform jacket he wasn’t wearing. Luke grinned. “I am the ranking officer here, and as you are out of commission at the moment, I am in command.”

  
  
“Piett….” growled his Father.

“And I say we need to get you two to be able to use the Force once more, as quickly as possible.”

“All right, sir,” Luke said, picking up his side once more. “But tell me if you get dizzy or anything.”

“Thank you, Commander,” Piett said, and Luke was enjoying the way the man was ignoring his Father’s distinctly unhappy sounds behind them. 

The moment that the Force returned was as though someone had dunked Luke into a cool bath of water, and he immediately felt his Father as well. He was not encouraged at the damage he could sense in the suit---his Father’s breathing was already compromised. 

He was also not happy with the condition of the Admiral.

“Kriff, sir, you’re burning up,” he exclaimed, alerting Piett to the fact that they had the Force once more.

“It’s a filthy hot little planet, Skywalker, of course I am.”

“He means your outrageous fever, Admiral,” snarled his Father behind him, and Luke felt a great surge of worry in the Force which wasn’t his own.

His Father  _ valued _ this man. He’d known that to an extent, but his feelings were more unguarded at the moment. He depended on Piett. Needed him as Admiral.  _ Liked _ him.

Luke wondered how much of that the Admiral was aware of.

“How far to our….ships?” Piett panted, ignoring the comments about his health. 

Luke reached in the Force.

“About an hour, sir.”

Piett nodded. “How are you doing, my Lord?” he called back.

His Father wasn’t doing well either. Luke wondered how they were going to get them back to the Executor.

“I will be fine when Henley can repair what happened. You and I Admiral, will be discussing your insubordination, however….”   
  


“He is perfectly correct with regulations, Father, stop threatening him just because you can’t show your regard any other way.”

Piett started at that.

“Oh yes,” said Luke loftily, “he threatens people he cares about.”

“ _ Luke _ ,” said his Father no doubt through grinding teeth, “do not speculate on things you have no clue about.”

“Not speculating,” Luke murmured, and the corner of Piett’s mouth curled slightly.

  
  


*****

Kriff, Skywalker was fearless when baiting his Lordship. Piett did not dare react as he did not have the same immunity from retribution, but he was amused. 

Of course, he was also feeling his fever increasingly and things were wavering in front of his eyes but he was reasonably sure that was his shuttle….it kept shrinking and then springing back to size.

“Admiral, we can set it down here.”

Right. He didn’t have to hold it anymore. It took a while for his brain to transmit that message to his hands and then he lowered the travois. While Skywalker busied himself with helping his Father, Piett staggered to the shuttle to lower the ramp and then found the medkit. He gave himself an antibiotic shot and then pondered. He had to pilot.

Skywalker was using the Force to help his Father on board and seated him in the hold before coming to Piett.

“Sir…..I’m concerned about you two being able to get to the Executor in one piece.”

“I….am perfectly…..capable to pilot…..my son.”

“Yes, the compromised respirator is convincing me of that right now,” Skywalker replied, running his scanner over Piett, who tried to swat it away.

“I can manage, Commander,” he said, tersely deciding on the stim shot.

“Admiral, this says 103.5 and climbing.” 

Skywalker had the cheek to give him a very chiding look. 

“As I said, Commander….”   
  


“Piett will have…..to…..pilot,” his commander wheezed, still managing to sound put out about it.

He rolled his eyes internally. 

“I have an idea,” Skywalker said, looking between them. “I pilot you back.”

“Oh yes?” snapped Piett. “And then how do we get the most notorious rebel in the galaxy off of the Executor?  _ Again _ ?” 

_ He really was losing it if he could sound so impatient. _

He sighed. “I do appreciate it, Commander---but I cannot ensure your safety, and there would be no way to retrieve your X-Wing.”

Skywalker gazed at him for a long moment, then smiled ruefully.

“How are we in a position, Admiral Piett, that my Father’s admiral is concerned about Luke Skywalker’s safety from the Empire?”

“Piett…..is….remarkable,” panted Lord Vader, “also helping…..us…..with treason…..so…..”

The young Jedi rolled his eyes very visibly. “Father, stop talking, and conserve your strength. All right, here’s what we can do. Sir, I could accompany you as close to the Executor as is safe. I can communicate with you and try to keep you…..focused.”

Piett considered this.

_ Having someone to keep him on track would be helpful and he agreed that Lord Vader should not try and speak. It was risky for the young rebel, but Piett deeply appreciated it. _

“Very well, Commander. Then we need to go. Now.”

Skywalker held out his hand and Piett took it.

“Good luck, sir. I’m glad you commed me.”

Piett smiled. “As am I.”

The commander rested a hand on his Father’s armored shoulder and the two must have had some silent Jedi communication before the young rebel left the shuttle. 

“All right, my Lord,” Piett said, “I will endeavor to return us as swiftly as possible.”

His commander merely nodded, the respirator sounding harsh, and Piett again quelled his fear and went into the cockpit to start up the engines and strap in.

As they lifted out of atmosphere, he could just glimpse Skywalker’s X-Wing to the side, flying in tandem.

“I’m sending you the coordinates for the ship, Commander,” he said over comms.

“Got it,” Skywalker replied and then both of them went to lightspeed. 

Piett could feel every aching joint and muscle acutely. The stim shot was partly responsible for that, but he supposed he should be thankful for the pain. It was keeping his brain from trotting merrily off into delirium. His uniform was an absolute loss and he could feel the grime coating his body. 

“Admiral?”

“What is it, Commander?”

“Just making sure you’re still present, sir. How are you?”

“Contemplating the joys of a long hot shower, Skywalker.”

A laugh over the connection.

“At least yours will be hot. Mine may be lukewarm at best.”

_ And his brain noted a joke to be made there, and…..kriff….he really needed to focus if he was thinking about such childish wordplay. _

“Do the Rebels not have hot water, Commander?”

“Not often, sir. One of the downsides of living on the run. Other than that though, it’s all sunshine and roses.”

Piett smiled and thought he heard a huff from the hold. 

_ He would need to remember that his commander could hear their conversation. _

“How will you explain your appearance, Admiral?”

_ Kriff. Great point. Henley and Max would have many many questions. _

“I….”

“Don’t …..have….to…..explain anything,” came a weak voice from the hold.

“Father! Stop talking. You can communicate with me in your head if you feel you  _ must _ share your thoughts.”

And Piett smiled. Having the young Jedi on the Executor could be very useful for working with his Father. If they didn’t have to worry about a Sith Emperor and a war and so on.

There was silence for some time and Piett could feel the stim shot wearing off.

“Admiral.”

_ Was that for him?  _

“ _Admiral_ ,” more urgently.

“I’m here. Sorry.”

“Can you check your temperature?”

He ran a scan from the shuttle. 104. 

“Well, not unexpected. 104.”

He could almost feel the young Jedi’s worry across their connection.

“We’re almost there, Skywalker. I think.” 

The readout was getting difficult to decipher.

“We are, sir. Admiral, I can sense that my Father’s breathing is getting critical. You’ll need a med team equipped for that right away. And sir, you’re close enough to comm them. This is where I need to go.”

_ Go? Go where? _

“Admiral!” and it was as though someone had given him a sharp swat on the head.

“Ow. What was that?”   
  


“Sorry, I had to use the Force. Sir, I have to leave you now. The med team…”

“Right. Yes. Sorry. I will let Henley know. Commander…….thank you.”

“Always, Admiral. Take care of him. And yourself.”

“Good stars, Commander.”

And he slapped at comms to hail the Lady. She was going to need to come to them.

After that, things were a haze.

_ The gorgeous bulk of his Lady, her white lights running for him. _

_ Tractor beam into the bay because his hands weren’t cooperating. _

_ Managing to slap the switch to lower the ramp. _

_ Thunder of the med team in the back. Henley? _

_ He should get up….couldn’t. _

_ Hand on his forehead and he knew that face. _

_ “Kriffing hell, Firmus, why didn’t you say you needed medical as well?” _

_ Max. _

_ More people and then the bright lights of the bay… _

_ Where was he going? _

_ “Sickbay, my delirious friend.” _

_ That hand on his shoulder was Max.  _

_ Max was here. He was on the Lady. Safety….. _

*****

Piett had no idea what time it was when he opened his eyes, grateful for the dim light and for the clarity of his thoughts. 

He was comfortable and  _ clean _ and didn’t mind that he was in sickbay for the moment. He was still tired which was why he didn’t register the sound he was hearing for a moment.

A respirator.

He whipped his head to the right, and tried not to be terrified by the fact that the figure of nightmares for much of the galaxy was  _ right there _ . 

“Lie still, Admiral,” and those deep tones were back in full command. Was it odd that he found that comforting?

“My Lord. I trust you are in full health?”   
  


“As I ever will be, Admiral. You however, have several more days to recuperate. Naturally you picked up some illness on the planet.”

Piett tried not to sprain his eyes by not rolling them.

“My Lord, I did not  _ intend… _ .”

“I know. I wished to say….”

A pause, and then a heavy black gloved hand rested on his shoulder. 

“Your actions were...commendable. No one else could have done what you did.”

Piett flushed. 

“Thank you, my Lord.”

A nod of the helmet.

“Rest now, Admiral.”

And Piett closed his eyes. 


	81. The Slaying of Jabba the Hutt as told by Luke, Leia, and Han (with many interruptions)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I've been wanting to do this for a while. And the time has come! :) Exactly what it says on the tin.   
> Enjoy!

Anakin surveyed the table with satisfaction. Yes, all right with pleasure as well, but it still felt strange to allow himself such trivial emotions as feeling content with family. He was working on it. 

These dinners didn’t happen very often due to his travels and the nature of what everyone did, but he felt deep gratitude for the people seated around him (all right, Solo was more tolerated than anything else, but Anakin really felt that was progress from wanting to throttle him so….)

They had fallen into a pattern to the point that everyone had ‘their’ seat, but he rather enjoyed that they all felt such ownership in his quarters. For reasons known only to himself, Solo had claimed the seat on Anakin’s right, but aside from that discomfort it all worked out well. Leia was on Solo’s other side, with Piett next to her. Luke sat on his other side with Veers next to him. There was room for two other people, but Anakin felt no need to fill those spots.

He, Veers, and Piett had recently returned from what he hoped would be the first of many missions to put down the pirates and slavers that infested the galaxy.* 

It had unfortunately meant that his Admiral would need surgery on his knee, but Piett had insisted it was worth it, even to put up with Henley’s overwhelming disapproval and Leia’s…. _ displeasure _ that he allowed Piett to be placed in a situation that gave him such an injury. 

For the time being, Henley had done what he could, and Piett had a pronounced limp at the moment, but that would be rectified soon. Even as he watched, the Admiral shifted again and Leia had patted his arm and suggested that they take the rest of their wine, and the addictively delicious Chandrilan chocolates to the sofas which Anakin had installed as an afterthought. Piett shot her a grateful look as they rose. 

He had never had people in his quarters just to….sit. To socialize. These last two years had brought numerous changes in his life, one of the best being that he had two children who wished to see him, and friends in his former officers. He deserved none of that, given what he had done to all of them and so evenings like this were a balm to his very battered soul.

Veers shoved the small table over for his friend to rest the bad leg on, and the two of them sat on one sofa with Luke, while Leia and Han took the smaller one and Anakin himself brought over a dining chair. 

“I really think,” said Piett, rubbing at his leg, “that we ought to hear some stories from the Rebel side of things after last time. It’s true that we had a great deal of intel on your exploits, but that is different than hearing about it from the source.”

He accepted his glass of wine from Veers. 

“Her highness has shared how you three met,” he continued with a small smile at Leia. “So what about you, General Solo? Anything you’d care to tell us about?”

Solo snorted. “Admiral, I hold you in high regard, but my perspective mostly includes the insanity of the Skywalker family so….”

He got a shove in the ribs from his princess. “You seem alright with being connected to the  _ Skywalker family _ , Han.”

“I’ve seen your flying, Solo,” Veers put in, “seems to me the insanity is evenly distributed.”

“If not the skill,” Anakin murmured and Solo narrowed his eyes…..

But Luke, ever the peacemaker, jumped in.

“I could tell a story, Admiral.”

Piett smiled at his son. “Thank you, Commander. May I have a chocolate, Veers….oh thank you, my dear.”

Two had floated out of the bowl and into his hand, and Leia smiled at him.

Luke shot his Father a somewhat…..apprehensive glance. 

“Um, Father, you and the Admiral are going to want full wine glasses for this one though.”

Anakin raised his eyebrows. “I am not opposed to that son, but it concerns me that you believe we need to.” 

Piett looked puzzled, and Leia had dawning understanding on her face as she looked at her brother.

“ _ Oh _ . Oh, Luke I don’t know if this is a story we should share….”

“Leia. I promised Father I would. Besides, you were heroic!”

She closed her eyes. “Yes, but there was so much else that we had to…..”

“I’m telling it.”

“ _ Kriff _ ,” his daughter said under her breath, and took a sip of her wine.

His son turned his bright blue eyes at him, and waved a hand to have the red wine pour into his glass.

_ Showing off just a little there, Luke. _

_ Just a little Father. He felt his smug satisfaction. _

He waved a hand expansively. “I will tell you the tale of how Leia killed Jabba the Hutt.”

“Oh kid, really? I couldn’t see for most of that.”

“I have to admit to being deeply curious as to how you managed that, your highness,” Veers stated with interest. 

Piett was looking apprehensive now as he studied Leia’s face. 

“I’m going to hate this story, aren’t I?” he asked. “Knowing what I know about Hutts, I despise the idea of you being in the same room with him….”

“Oh yeah, you’ll hate this then,” Solo put in. “General you’re going to want a whole bottle over there.”

Anakin himself was feeling uneasy. “What did you….?”   
  


“I’m beginning at the beginning,” said his son, who was clearly in a mischievous mood. 

_ Was this what Obi-Wan had felt like with him sometimes? _

_ All the time _ , his traitorous brain supplied. 

“We had to rescue Han, that was the purpose of the mission....”

“And we won’t get into  _ why _ that was…” Solo muttered.

Anakin shot him a look. 

“Just don’t, please, Father,” Leia said.

“Anyway,” Luke continued glaring at them both, “First Lando went in to get a job as a guard there, get the layout.”

“Then I tried to do things the more civilized way, and sent him Threepio and Artoo as gifts…”

“You were going to give them to  _ Jabba _ ?” Anakin growled in disbelief.

Luke rolled his eyes. “You can’t interrupt the entire time. Of course I wasn’t going to let him  _ keep _ them.”

“Don’t see why not,” muttered Veers into his glass, and Piett gave him a gentle nudge with his elbow. 

“Artoo’s not so bad,” Piett said quietly.

“Agree to disagree,” the General stated, taking a drink.

“Ahem.” Luke cleared his throat. “So, Artoo played a message from me about bargaining for Han.”

“Which didn’t work, obviously,” put in Solo. “Clearly I was not involved with this plan or a  _ lot _ of things would have been different.”

“Remind me where  _ you _ were again, Solo?” Anakin asked. 

Piett sighed and poured more wine. 

“Leia went in next, pretending to be a bounty hunter,” said Luke hurriedly, clearly wishing to move past the tension.

“With respect your highness, how did you manage to pull that off with that face?” Veers asked, raising an eyebrow. 

Leia smiled at him. “I wore a helmet the whole time and had a voice distorter.”

“So the idea was that she would bring in Chewie for his bounty, and then rescue Han in the evening after everyone was asleep."

“You brought in the Wookie?” Veers asked eyebrows high. “Isn’t he roughly double your height?”

Piett coughed into his glass, and managed to swallow his wine without incident, eyes watering. 

Leia raised her eyebrow at them both. “Yes, General he is. But I also brought in a thermal detonator and armed it.”

“Well of course you did,” said Veers, grinning widely. Piett shook his head a little, and pinched the bridge of his nose.

_ Yes, Anakin could sympathize. He sensed it was going to get worse.  _

“That seemed to appeal to Jabba….”

“Yes, apparently I was ‘his kind of scum’,” Leia put in primly.

Anakin frowned. “Clearly your plan didn’t succeed at that point. What happened?”

Luke sighed. “Well, Jabba was suspicious because…”

“Because you sent the droids and wanted to bargain,” Solo interrupted. “I told ya kid, you go in and slice some Hutt steaks. That’s the only way….”

“ _ Stars _ ,” muttered Piett looking ill and having a piece of chocolate. 

“Or he was just suspicious when Chewie came in,” said Luke loftily. “Regardless, Leia got Han out of the carbonite, but he’d been there too long and….”

“Hibernation sickness,” said Veers knowingly. “No fun, Solo.”

“Tell me about it.  _ And _ I couldn’t see.”

Anakin knew he was receiving a filthy glare from the smuggler and chose to ignore it. He sensed that Leia was uncomfortable.

“I might as well tell this part, Luke, because you’ll mess it up and make Father and the Admiral upset.”

“ _ Upset _ ?” Anakin asked. “It involves Jabba, I already know that word won’t cover it.”

Leia took a swallow of her wine and prepared herself. Anakin could feel Piett’s tension as well and met his eyes.

“Jabba had been hiding behind a curtain with his courtiers and when I released Han he revealed himself. You’re right, you know how he is with females, so the upside is, I wasn’t executed right away. He thought it would be a good idea for me to be a dancer.”

Anakin narrowed his eyes. 

“So he made me wear a collar with a chain to keep me by him.”

“Yes, sorry about that, Leia,” Luke said apologetically.

The room trembled and Anakin took a deep breath as they all looked at him. 

“Please explain, son,  _ why _ you did not rip him apart with the Force when you came in?”

“Well, Dark Side power, so…. bad idea right there, Father. I hoped to bargain and not take too many lives.”

Piett snorted, and Anakin realized his Admiral’s eyes were bright with anger.

“With a  _ Hutt _ ? I thought you grew up on that planet! You should know better.”

Luke sighed. “Admiral I understand, but, you may recall, there was an Imperial garrison nearby at the time. We really didn’t want to draw attention with a massive battle.”

“Which is exactly what we ended up doing…” Han contributed. 

“Jumping too far ahead,” Leia reminded them. “And that was a learning curve wasn’t it Luke?”

His son flushed. “Yes. I…. didn’t know that Force suggestion doesn’t work on Hutts.”

_ Obi-wan, What the kriff did you actually teach my son? _

“Wait.” Veers sat up a bit more. “ _ You _ were captured?”

Anakin looked at his son’s sheepish face and realized that was exactly what had happened. 

“ _ Force _ .” Piett groaned. “You are sitting there and telling me we could have lost all of you to the  _ Hutts _ ?”

“I know, Admiral dear,” said Leia, “But you are forgetting we had one advantage and Luke did think to use it.”

“Foresight? In a  _ Skywalker _ plan?” The Admiral said, voice dripping with skepticism, and he had clearly forgotten that his commander bore that name as well, in his ire.

“Firmus….” Veers murmured, glancing at Anakin who raised an amused eyebrow at Piett. 

His Admiral flushed, but held his ground. “Due respect sir, but I believe I have earned the right to express my  _ concerns _ .”

Anakin chuckled. “You have indeed and more, Admiral. Though that sounded a bit more like contempt…”

“Oh, that was his contemptuous tone,” Veers affirmed with a grin as Piett shot him a look. 

“What did I say about interruptions?” Luke said impatiently. “Admiral, we’ll leave aside your opinions for the moment and I’ll tell you about my back up plan.”

“Jabba intended to feed us to the sarlacc….”

“Luke you skipped your fight with the rancor,” Leia said, and Veers, who had been in the act of raising his glass to his lips, lowered it slowly, to stare at his son. 

“You fought…..”

“Well….yeah. Learned about another creature that is fairly Force resistant.”

Solo chuckled. “Steep learning curve that day, kid.”

Piett and Veers were looking entirely unamused, and the General turned to his friend.

“You are the one who asked for a story, so I’m letting you know now that you have only yourself to blame when we go to the range after this and I don’t care how late it is. I’m going to need to shoot something.”

Piett gave him a skeptical look. “And I need to be part of that because….?”

“Please, Admiral, we both know you wouldn’t let me go alone and destroy your score.”

“Gentlemen,” interposed Anakin, “I would like to hear how my utterly reckless offspring managed not to get themselves shot or eaten.” He stared at his son who squirmed slightly. 

“Well, um, it was fairly straightforward for the rancor. I threw a skull at the panel that controlled his cage and the door fell on his head, crushing him.”

“Jabba was so angry,” Leia said shuddering, “but I was just so relieved Luke was alive.”

“I’m still waiting to hear about this excellent back up plan,” Piett said, giving his son a hard stare. 

“I’m getting there, sir,” Luke said, grinning. 

“They took us on his sail barge out to the Dune Sea to make a big show of throwing us in the sarlacc pit.”

“All I could see by that point was a big light blur,” Solo put in.

“Yes, crucial detail, thank you, Solo,” Anakin said, and Veers snorted. 

The former smuggler glared but Leia’s elbow found his side again. 

“Han, Chewie, and I were out on one of two skiffs, but we had Lando, don’t forget.”

“ _ Calrissian _ was the backup plan?” asked Anakin.

HIs son had the cheek to roll his eyes. “No, Father. I keep trying to get there, but you three keep interrupting….”

“I was on the main barge with the droids,” said Leia, “and Admiral do stop trying to glare Luke into dust. It was the plan we all agreed on. It’s not completely his fault it went wrong.”

“My dear that may be the case, but it left  _ you _ with that….” Piett clearly couldn’t think of a name strong enough to call the Hutt, but Anakin was having similar feelings.

“You left your sister with Jabba, son?”

“We would never have just  _ left _ her, Father, and I did tell you both to have some more wine for this.”

“Not enough wine in the galaxy for this,” Piett declared, and Veers patted his shoulder.

“This plan was utterly reckless, and it placed you all in grave danger. What if you had been badly injured?” Anakin asked.

Solo barked a laugh and Anakin looked at him quellingly.

“Sorry, but it’s still so strange to have you care about whether we were injured or not.”

“And you wouldn’t have then,” Leia said cooly, “so please calm down. I’m glad you care now and we’re all here, but let’s not criticize Luke too hard for doing his best in a situation none of  _ us _ were the cause of.”

Anakin got the unspoken message very clearly. His daughter was very good at delivering the coup de grace. 

“We got to the sarlacc pit and they literally had us walk the plank. And  _ this _ is where the back up comes in," Luke continued.

He paused to grin, and Veers suddenly frowned. 

“Skywalker, I swear to the galaxy if this is another legendary astromech moment…”

Luke laughed. “Well, I had to hide my lightsaber somewhere…”

Piett and Anakin stared. 

“Nine hells,” Veers groaned.

“You’re serious,” said the Admiral. “You put the lightsaber in…..Artoo?”

“Yes,” said his son triumphantly, as though this was the best plan possible.

Veers was leaning over his knees massaging his temples with his fingers, while Piett shook his head with his eyes closed.

“So I walked the plank and jumped, but then I grabbed it to flip back onto the skiff while Artoo fired the lightsaber to me.”

“And you just….started fighting?” Anakin asked.

“Well….yeah.”

_ To be fair, Anakin himself had done things just like that at Luke’s age. Not that he would encourage this behavior by telling him so. _

“I still had no idea what was going on,” Solo commented.

“Story of your life, Solo,” Anakin stated calmly.

“Father!” Leia admonished. “While they did that, I smashed the lights in Jabba's barge and because the brainless slug had me on a long chain, I used that to ah, throttle him.”

A long moment of silence as Piett, Veers, and Anakin looked at her.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, your highness, but you….were not aware of your heritage at that point is that right?” Veers asked.

“No, but I’m not sure why that matters,” his daughter responded.

“My dear girl,” the Admiral said, shifting and rubbing at his leg again, “you went up against the Hutt with nothing but your own strength. You…..are so very incredible.”

Leia gave Piett a blinding smile, and Han sent the man an approving look. 

“True words there, Admiral.”

“We blew up the sail barge…” Luke started.

“Hey, aren’t we going to talk about how I saved Lando from the sarlacc even though I couldn’t see?”

Anakin levelled a look at the Corellian. 

“Did you kill it?”

“Well no….”

“Then it’s not as interesting.”

Piett had another coughing fit and Veers was openly smiling. 

“You blew up the sail barge son? How?”

“Pointed the guns at the deck, and then Leia and I swung off to the skiff that Chewie and Lando were piloting.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong,” said Piett in a voice that clearly implied he wasn’t, “but I thought you were trying to avoid the detection of the Imperial base.”

“Well,” sighed Leia, “at that point it was, frankly, a free for all.”

“Just at that point?” Veers asked skeptically.

“I think I’ll take you up on the range time,” the Admiral said, turning to the General. “Because the main conclusion I am drawing from this story is that Artoo saved everyone because the Commander  _ happened _ to put his lightsaber in his dome.”

“Well don’t tell him you think that, Admiral,” Anakin said, smiling, “he already believes he saves everyone in every situation. His ego is truly breathtaking….”

“I’m discussing a droid’s ego,” sighed Veers. “I’m beginning to wonder if the Rebellion actually had a plan, or if they were just depending on you all to be so breathtakingly reckless that we would stand there in surprise and get shot.”

“General…..” Leia admonished. 

“I suppose I’m glad to know the story, son,” Anakin commented, pouring himself a little more wine. “But I do wish you had told me the plan so we could have...well, made it better.”

“I grant it had some flaws,” Luke said smiling, “but you were busy, you may recall Father, trying to retrieve an Admiral of yours….”

“ _ Some _ flaws,” Veers muttered under his breath. “One  _ giant _ flaw….”

Piett looked at him. “You….came for me right after  _ that _ ?”

His son smiled at Piett. “Well of course, Admiral. We needed you. And you clearly mattered just as much to my Father as Han did to us.”

A pause as both Solo and Piett grappled with the fact that they were that important to the people in the room. 

“That is quite true,” Anakin said. 

“Indeed,” Veers added. 

“Still need that range time?” Han asked Veers.

“Absolutely,” the two Imperials answered together.

“Admiral dear, your knee….” Leia tried.

“My dear, it can withstand some range time with Max, because otherwise I may have to invade Nal Hutta,” Piett smiled at her.

“We’ll get there, Admiral,” said Anakin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *See The Beginning from Hunting Scum and Villainy


	82. Leia's Skywalker Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When her Admiral and his best friend are kidnapped, Leia makes some quick decisions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well the discussion of Skywalker plans in the previous chapter partly spurred this. Because Leia really is a Skywalker though perhaps SLIGHTLY better thought out than the male members of her family. :D
> 
> This turned into another fairly lengthy one shot but it was fun and I hope you don't mind! Thanks for reading.:)

“Do you still have that knife in your boot, Firmus?” Veers asked, craning his head to try and see the Admiral.

“Yes, Max, I do, but I’m not sure what you think I can do about that at the moment.”

His friend sounded rather put out which was fair, Veers reflected. Being kidnapped in the midst of your own fleet tended to make people a bit terse. And by people he meant Piett.

“Well…..can you try and reach it?”

“Veers, I’m going to go out on a limb here and guess that your hands are in binders behind you?”

  
  
“Yes.”   
  


“Ankles secured as well?”

“It’s like you know.”

“Quite.”

He couldn’t see his friend as they were imprisoned in what was likely an old storage room. Veers was fairly certain they were aboard a ship, but hadn’t been conscious when he was brought aboard so had no idea what type. Or who had them.

Piett was on the other side of the dark room, he could tell that from speaking with him. 

“Well, I was hoping they were stupid enough to leave your ankles free.”

A sigh. 

“We’re rather kriffed at the moment, Veers.”

They rather were. Because to be caught in the midst of their own fleet meant one thing.

“Why do you think they betrayed us?” he asked.

“Money? Fame? I don’t know. Until we know who has us and what for, we won’t have answers. I’m just wondering if it was the whole crew or if they killed the others.”

Naturally, Piett was worrying over his men. 

He and Piett had been in a lamda along with numerous junior officers for an inspection of the Dauntless. They had left the Lady and Veers recalled wondering to Piett if he had to wear gloves for this and then….nothing. 

“The pilot had to have been in on it,” Piett mused in the dark. “The only way to remove us from the fleet quickly enough means he was part of it. You know I usually like to pilot myself for this.”

“Yes, why didn’t you?”

“He offered. Said he was hoping to get the experience and would I mind? I remember thinking he was a promising young officer. Kriff.”

Betrayal was always personal of course. But Piett took it harder than most---wondering what he might have done or not done. 

“How did they knock us out?” the Admiral asked. “I would have felt a hypospray.”

Veers had pondered this. “I think it was a gas. We were the only officers in the hold. The junior ones were in the cockpit and we were with the troopers. They could have sealed their helmets against it.”

“True.” 

A pause.

“Think they’ll be able to find us?” Veers asked.

“ _ That _ is the million credit question, friend of mine,” answered Piett soberly. 

These musings were interrupted by the door opening, and a strong shaft of light flooding the room. Stormtroopers entered (and that was interesting) and the binders on their ankles were removed to haul them to their feet.

Veers got a look at his friend as they were marched down a narrow corridor. Piett seemed unharmed, and he had some relief at that. He didn’t recognize the type of ship they were on. 

Piett caught his eye and nodded ever so imperceptibly at the trooper to Veers’ right. The man had the code cylinder for the binders on his belt. 

Veers raised both eyebrows.

_ Ready when you are.  _

They were escorted by four troopers and an officer. Whether these were the traitors or loyal Imperials, Veers didn’t know. Regardless, they had to make an attempt.

Piett went to the deck, tripping up the two men near him and Veers turned to slam his back against the man with the code cylinder, crushing him against the wall of the corridor. The General scrambled with his bound hands to get the cylinder, successfully freeing it from his belt. The other trooper came at him as he was trying to release his binders, but suddenly went down hard, and Veers realized that Piett had swept his legs from under him, even as he was piled on. 

It gave Veers the vital seconds needed to release his hands and he took out one trooper very effectively and stole his blaster, smoothly changing the setting to stun and firing at one of the men trying to subdue the Admiral before the officer had his blaster leveled at Veers’ temple.

“Enough. I’ve called for backup. You won’t accomplish anything, General except your own injury.”

But Piett wasn’t done, fighting with every dirty move he had practiced with Veers in the gym and in the scuffle, he managed to connect with the officer’s ankle.

The man swore in pain, wavering and it was enough for Veers to strike swiftly, disarming him and sending him to the deck with one punch.

He turned his attention to pulling one of the two remaining troopers off of Piett but then it was truly over.

From both ends of the corridor came numerous troops, blaster rifles ready. Veers rose slowly, hands in the air.

The officer rose from the deck, blood pouring down his face from his nose, and punched the General in the stomach as his hands were cuffed behind him once more. 

Piett coughed and jerked helplessly as he was kicked twice in the ribs and Veers was sure that had caused some damage as the Admiral was hauled to his feet.

“Try that again,” the officer hissed, blood spitting from his mouth, “and you’ll wish I had spaced you.”

Both of them stared at him impassively, and they were shoved roughly forward again to eventually end up in a large room where an Imperial General looked up from a desk and smiled thinly.

“Well. I see you are both just as infuriating as I was told.”

  
  


****

“What do you mean,” Leia said slowly, something heavy and tight building in her chest, “the shuttle just  _ disappeared _ ?”

Captain Kelly swallowed slightly at her frosty tones, but looked her in the eye. 

“They were headed for a routine inspection, your highness, and then the pilot just turned out of the fleet and went to lightspeed.”

“The Admiral pilots himself. Why would he do that?”

“According to the deck officer, your highness, one of the junior officers offered to pilot and the Admiral allowed it.”

Leia closed her eyes.  _ Kriffing hell. Veers and her Admiral. And Luke and Han still returning from the Mid-Rim, while she wasn’t quite certain where her Father was. _

“No way to track them then?” she asked, opening her eyes.

He looked apologetic, though it really wasn’t his fault. Betrayal had happened here. She could see the suppressed worry and anger in Kelly’s face. This was his Admiral after all, and while Veers wasn’t navy, the fleet held him in high regard. 

“I’m sorry, your highness. We have our people scanning comms traffic and keeping an eye on the holonet. In case….”

_ In case there was a ransom. Or word of their capture. _

“Yes. Thank you, Captain, I know you’re doing your best.”   
  


“I’m sorry we have no way to trace them, princess. Perhaps reaching out to some of our agents….?”

Leia half heard him.  _ Because there was a potential way to track them. She had only done it once and that was when she had been in the same building, but……. _

“Yes, um...yes, thank you, Kelly. Do that. I am going to the Admiral’s conference room. Could you have Ellery meet me there in about twenty minutes?”

“Yes, your highness.” He looked puzzled but didn’t question her as she turned to make her way to the familiar room. 

<Dear One!! The Lady was not quite frantic, but her urgency was physically staggering to Leia.>

<I know, Lady. I’m going to find him, I promise.>

<I wish to join you.>

<Leia sighed. I know, Lady, and part of me wants that as well, but we don’t know what we’re dealing with yet. If you show up...>

<Yes. I understand, Dear One. Then, once you have found him…>

<Then you can come, Leia replied grimly.>

She entered the conference room and sat down on the sofa close to the viewport. 

Luke would tell her to be calm and clear her mind. It was always more difficult for her to do than her brother, but she took a deep breath and closed her eyes. 

_ It’s too far _ , her brain said.

_ Luke managed it,  _ she thought, and strove to push away her doubts and focus instead on all of the things she loved about her Admiral.

_ Knowing smile when they shared a private joke.  _

_ Secure presence, and the head tilt when he was ready to face down a challenge. _

_ Long suffering sigh that made her smile. _

_ The particular eyebrow raise just for Veers. _

_ Strong heartbeat in her ear when she hugged him…. _

_ And Leia reached in the Force….. _

_ There. _

She could hear his thoughts and she focused hard to suddenly find that she was seeing what he was seeing.

_ An Imperial General standing before him, Veers at his side. _

_ Viewports behind the Imperial showing the stars, so a ship then.  _

_ “....worked very hard on this operation and I’m pleased to say it bore the fruit we hoped for.”  _

_ The Imperial was speaking. _

_ “If you think you can get a Fleet Admiral and the Senior General to talk you are tragically misinformed,” Veers said coldly. _

_ The General laughed. “Oh no. Do not underestimate me General Veers. We intend to use you. Jedi are hard to get, but you two….And yet, you clearly hold great value to the Rebels. So…” _ _   
  
_

_ ‘The New Republic,” Piett corrected calmly. “You want to use us to bargain?” He gave a short humorless laugh. “That’s not going to happen.” _

_ Oh, Admiral…. _

_ “No, I’m not that foolish either, Piett, don’t take me for some base pirate. No, we are going to shatter the Rebellion. They will believe you have betrayed them.” _

_ Leia felt Piett’s horror at the thought. _

_ “They know we would never…” _ _   
  
_

_ “Do they?  _ **_All_ ** _ of them? I disagree, Admiral. Our intel says there are several in high positions who would be only too ready to believe you have given them up.” _

And Leia decided it was time to encourage her Admiral. She hoped he was accustomed enough to Skywalker oddities not to start.

_ Admiral? _ _   
  
_

_ He was good. He went very still as the Imperial turned back to the desk.  _

_ My dear? _

_ Yes. I’m coming for you. _

_ She felt his surge of fear for her as well as his relief at her presence. _

_ Not alone….. _

_ “We’ll be doing some very special holocasts,” the Imperial General was saying, “and the galaxy will think you came running back to the Empire.” _

_ She sent him reassurance. Not alone. Are you hurt? _

_ Bruises, dear girl, nothing serious. _

_ Try to keep it that way, please? She could feel the strain this connection was taking on her. _

_ I have to go. I’ll contact you again. _

_ Yes. She felt his assurance. Numerous light years away and a prisoner, but he still wanted to reassure her.  _

_ She let him feel her affection before she broke the connection. _

Leia opened her eyes and felt exhausted, but triumphant. She had done it. More, she knew where they were. At least for now. 

<Lady. I need a map of the Expansion Region. Near Kinyen, please.>

The Lady obliged and pulled up the blue holo image, obligingly adding the current fleet location in relation to it.

“All right,” Leia said out loud. “They were taken about five hours ago.” She had been meditating for at least 20 minutes, so hopefully……

The door chimed and she waved a hand at it, studying the map as Ellery came in. 

“Your Highness. You wished to see me.”

“Ellery. I assume you know what has happened.”

“Yes, your Highness,” he answered soberly. 

“I know where they are. And we need to go now to have a hope of retrieving them.”

“And by ‘we’ your Highness, you mean….”

Leia sighed. She knew that numerous people would be unhappy, and that she would no doubt receive grief about a ‘Skywalker’ plan but she knew they needed to go  _ now _ if they were to save their people. The Force was practically shoving her. 

“I mean you and me and as many of your men as we can fit in a troop transport.”

The Sergeant eyed her, clearly understanding what she was asking. 

“Hangar bay 15 then, your Highness? Give me twenty minutes.”

_ Bless this man.  _

“Thank you, Sergeant.”

Accordingly, she came into the bay, lightsaber on her hip and blaster in her hand. Ellery stood outside the transport as it powered up while numerous techs looked at them in bewilderment. 

_ Oh they were about to be more surprised…. _

She entered with him and went up to the cockpit to sit behind the pilot. 

The comms crackled to life as expected. 

“Transport Aurek27 this is the bridge. You do not have authorization to leave the ship. Power down now.”

Leia leaned forward as the co-pilot flicked the switch. 

“I’m sorry, bridge, but we need to go now.”

A beat, then Kelly's voice. “Your  _ Highness?” _

“I’m sorry, Captain, I take full responsibility.”

The pilot looked at her inquiringly. “Your Highness, the atmospheric shield is still up….”

<Lady? Leia said.>

And the shield came down. 

“Go, commander,” Leia said, and the transport shot out and away from the fleet.

  
  


****

Piett strove to keep his face as neutral as possible. 

_ His princess was remarkable. She knew where they were. And she was coming, though he wondered what she meant by ‘not alone’. She did not command the fleet and no doubt high command would want to be consulted in the course of action….  _

“And what makes you think we would agree to  _ that _ ?” Veers was asking next to him. 

“Ah General. This is why the Imperial forces are far superior. You should know better than to have such vulnerable things as friendship in the military. You say what we tell you or Piett will bear the cost.”

He turned to the Admiral. “The same goes for you, Admiral.”

“If you kill us, I don’t see how that helps you,” Veers said coldly, but Piett was thinking rapidly. 

The General smiled like a Kamino shark. 

“Kill you? I’m starting to get offended at your assessment of my intelligence, Veers.”

“I’m not used to very high standards from the Imperial remnants,” his friend returned, earning him a rifle butt to the stomach. 

“We won’t kill you. We’ll just start by shooting out your kneecaps. You can still be filmed that way.”

“Very well,” Piett said, striving to sound as defeated as possible, and ignoring Veers’ startled look sideways. 

The Imperial looked at him sharply. 

“Quick to acquiesce, Piett. That does not seem in character for you.”

“You don’t  _ know _ me,” the Admiral spat scornfully. “I still don’t know who you are. Yet another lackey, licking the boots of an aspiring tyrant?”

It was his turn for the rifle butt to his kidneys, and the Imperial curled his lip. 

“I am General Reichen. And you will do as I say or we start on the General here.”

Piett straightened painfully.

“Fine!” he snarled, “I’ll do it. Leave the General out of it!”

Reichen smiled, thin lipped and Veers trusted Piett enough not to question him openly. 

_ Thank you, Max.  _

“Take them back and get the equipment ready to broadcast. Thank you for your  _ cooperation _ , Admiral.”

_ Good. He had bought some time. _

He glared as they were led away. 

This time they were cuffed to chairs, back to back (“can’t have you looking too rumpled after all”) and then left alone once more in the dark.

“All right, Firmus, tell me what the  _ hell _ is going on,” Veers stated vehemently. “Because you would never…”

“Of course not. But we need to stall. Help is on the way and we’re dealing with a very nasty piece of work here. Had you ever heard of Reichen before?”

“No, but I don’t like how his mind works. Well. His mind  _ works _ and that’s the problem. And how in the galaxies do you know that help is on the way?” 

_ Piett had not shared this tidbit with the General yet. She had done it only once before and clearly had become even more adept in reaching for his mind.  _

“Ah….Well, Veers are you aware of the fact that the Skywalkers can communicate in the Force?”

“Yes,” his friend answered, then paused. “Wait. Are you telling me…?”

“The princess communicated with me.”   
  


“Don’t you have to have the Force to do that?”   
  


“I have been told that while it is more difficult, they can communicate with those of us who don’t have it. I have now had all the Skywalkers in my head at some point and it is still strange. Every time.”   
  


Veers snorted.

“Damn straight it is. Well, how does she know where we are?”

“Apparently, rather powerful Jedi can track….I don’t know a signature I suppose? I believe that is how Commander Skywalker found me before Endor.”

Veers shifted uncomfortably behind him. He didn’t like being reminded of that incident. 

“So….what then? Her Highness is charging out here? Is the fleet coming too?”

Piett sighed. “I don’t know about that, Max. My impression was that she had back up but it didn’t seem like the fleet was coming. It would take time to mobilize.”

The General was silent for a minute. “I’ll be honest, Firmus, I’m not sure how she’s going to do this. It feels a lot like a Rebel plan. Throw themselves at something and hope that sheer nerve is enough.”   
  


Piett smiled into the dark. “It did seem to work a rather ridiculous amount of times though, Max.”

“I don’t like to think about what says for Imperial training,” his friend responded. 

“Fair point.”

“All right then,” Veers continued. “We stall. You’re up first apparently. How will we know when they get here? By the shooting?”   
  


Piett was grateful for a friend who went along with seemingly impossible plans purely because he trusted the people making them. 

“I believe she will try to contact me again.”

“Let’s hope soon then. Because are you planning on saying what they want you to on a live broadcast? There will be a lot of people panicking…”

Piett hated to think that after everything, beings would so easily believe in his supposed betrayal, but….

“Do you want your kneecap destroyed?”

Veers huffed behind him. 

“Not particularly, but I hate the idea of just giving in to that nasty bastard.”

“I know. So we stall as long as possible.”

_ Please get here, princess. _

  
  


*****

Veers thought it had been perhaps two hours when they were retrieved once more and brought to a smaller, but more comfortable room. Perhaps this was a converted cruiser. 

A table was set up, much like one would see for holonet interviews. There was a plant behind it and two chairs as well as a picture of the late Emperor. 

_ Really? _

Piett was shoved into one of the chairs and had each wrist cuffed to the arms while his ankles were also secured. They were taking no chances. They even had an aide brush his uniform.

“You think this will convince anyone?” Piett said with a mocking smile. “You have me chained to a chair, and you think beings will believe your little charade?”

Veers was likewise restrained in a chair behind the cameras, and a trooper stood near him with a blaster rifle. That was ominous.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Admiral,” said Reichen, striding into the room, “we will of course release your hands. Try anything and you know the consequences.”

The trooper armed the rifle with its distinct whine and placed the barrel to Veers’ knee.

_ That…..was not at all pleasant. _

Piett met his eyes and Veers knew his friend was torn. 

“You will also strive to look natural and comfortable, Admiral,” Reichen ordered as the interviewer entered---a military press secretary by the looks of things. 

Piett laughed humorlessly. “You want me to start acting now as well?”

An officer undid the binders from his hands.

“And I’m not comfortable. My ankles are fastened to this chair.”

Reichen folded his arms as the holoprompter turned on. Veers couldn’t see it from his angle, but could watch Piett’s face as he read his prepared lines. 

“You really don’t know me at all. I don’t speak like that. No one will believe this.”

“I think plenty are very willing to believe it.”

“ ‘But the gullible Rebels are so eager to believe their cause is so noble a fleet Admiral would just defect.’ “

Veers chuckled and Reichen frowned.

“How do you deal with the fact that I was Lord Vader’s Admiral, and I joined with him and the Alliance? Are you implying that a  _ Sith _ somehow missed my subterfuge? And has continued to do so for two years?”

Veers saw that this actually shook them, and Reichen gave his friend a filthy look as he went to confer with the interviewer and a few other officers on the other side of the room. 

_ Well done, Firmus.  _

Even as the General watched, his friend stiffened slightly, and got a distant look.

_ The princess…? _

The group of Imperial returned, and the interviewer sat down again. 

Reichen came to stand on the other side of Veers and raised a hand to the cameras….

….shouting out in the corridors and that was definitely blaster fire. 

The trooper by Veers moved his rifle from his knee to his heart as the Imperial General demanded to know what was going on into his commlink. 

And that was the moment Piett struck. Quick as a snake he had the knife he kept in his boot and the trooper by Veers went down without a sound, the blade up to the handle in one of his eye lenses. 

Reichen snarled as Piett lashed out at the interviewer, sending the man to the floor…..

…...and Reichen was pulling his blaster on his friend….

“Everyone stops moving now,” came a firm voice from the door.

  
  


******

Their ship dropped out of hyperspace and there before them was a sizable cruiser, though not of Imperial make. 

_ Were they trying for more subtlety then? Perhaps. _

“Scan the area,” Ellery said, “there could be more ships.”

“Not at the moment, sir,” a man replied. 

“Why aren’t they shooting at us?” asked the pilot.

“We’re in an Imperial transport,” Leia replied, taking a breath and calming herself. She was being stretched in her abilities quite a lot today. But she would happily push herself as far as she could for these men. “They are probably unsure at the moment.” And the comms came to life.

“Imperial troop transport, identify yourself.”

Leia motioned for the switch and the co-pilot turned it on as she directed the Force at the other ship.

“This is Transport Aurek27. You  _ will _ allow us to dock in the main bay.”

A beat and everyone in the cockpit was looking at her, but she was reaching for her power…..

“You can dock in the main bay Transport Aurek27.”

And the shields went down on the cruiser as their pilot moved the ship forward.

Ellery had impressed eyebrows raised. “Your Highness…”

“I can’t sustain it for very long, Sergeant. But I will try and suggest that we are their allies for as long as possible. Now, I need to focus, excuse me.”

And she closed her eyes as they approached the ship, reaching for his presence. There. Deck 7.

“All right,” she said, opening her eyes and looking around. “Commander, if you would be so good as to contact Executor and let them know we have located the Admiral and the General, and we would appreciate their presence.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Sergeant. We need to head to Deck 7 once we are aboard. I do not know how long I can keep them from seeing us as a threat, but I will do my best. Commander, Lieutenant, stay with the ship----we may need a quick getaway.”

They were now easing down in the bay and Leia could see other troopers waiting, as well as deck crew.

_ That was a lot of people to give a Force suggestion to.  _

The transport ramp went down and Ellery went to the head of his men as Leia stretched out in her powers to the bay.

_ We are your people. We are not a threat. _

“Sergeant,” greeted one of the troopers. “What brings you here?”

“We were told to come and help escort the prisoners,” Ellery responded calmly. He was doing very well working with a Jedi. Of course, he had some experience there.

“Very good.” The man saluted and their small force moved out of the bay and toward the lifts. Leia felt the strain and managed to hold the suggestion until they had all made it in. 

She leaned against the wall, panting slightly, feeling the sweat on her temples. 

“Are you all right, your Highness?” Ellery asked, putting out a hand. 

“Yes, thank you Sergeant. But I’m afraid I can’t do too much more. We’re heading for Deck 7. And...I need to concentrate.”

She was tired and knew that she needed to conserve her strength for the inevitable battle, but she used the Force once more and it was slightly easier now that she was close.

_ Admiral? _

_ Princess. He was remarkably calm.  _

_ We’re almost with you. There’s likely to be some blaster fire. Are either of you in a direct line of fire? _

_ Veers is. But I can manage that. _

_ He was confident. She would trust he knew what he was talking about. _

_ All right. We’re coming. _

And the turbolift doors opened.

They stepped out to the corridor, Leia leading the way, her lightsaber in her hand and ready as she was no longer using the Force to suggest they were friendlies. She was tracking her Admiral and as they rounded a curve, they were met by troopers who took one look and raised their weapons. 

Leia’s lightsaber hummed to life, and Ellery and his men opened fire behind her.

The men went down and they were running now as she searched and then….

That was the room. She motioned to Ellery with her free hand and he nodded. 

Then she opened the door with the Force just as the Imperial General raised his own blaster to point at Piett, seated at the far end of the room.

“Everyone stops moving now!” called Ellery at her side, his blaster rifle trained on the man, and everyone obeyed as she and the other troopers moved further into the room, taking swift stock of the situation. 

A dead trooper lay on the floor by Veers and she recognized the knife that had killed him, but she strode up to the Imperial coolly.

“Drop that blaster,” she said and he glared but obeyed, watching her white blade carefully.

“Ellery,” she said, not taking her eyes off the man, “get the code cylinder for the binders.”

The big man obeyed and released Veers who in turn moved to his friend, and knelt to free his ankles.

“How far do you imagine you’ll get with this pitiful little band, Organa?” asked the enemy General with a sneer. 

“Pretty far,” she replied calmly as Piett came to her side, and scooped up the dropped blaster.

_ And she felt fairly invincible in that moment---he was alright and next to her. They would fight their way out together. _

“How did you fall so far to work with Rebel scum, Piett?” he sneered and her Admiral calmly flicked a setting on the blaster and stunned him. Then he turned to her and smiled widely.

“I’m rather fond of this particular Rebel scum,” he told her and she laughed, extinguishing her blade to hold him tightly for a moment.

“You really need to stick to piloting yourself,” she said, pulling back. “And we are going to have to move quickly now.” She glanced up as Veers came to join them, having acquired a blaster rifle. 

“Are you both able to move quickly?” she asked, surprising the General with a swift embrace. Piett chuckled.

“Yes, my dear. Your quick action no doubt kept us both from some….. _ unpleasantness _ .”

_ Well thank the Force for that, indeed. _

They all moved from the room and almost immediately were set upon as enemy troopers came running up the corridor. Leia covered their backs in case they were attacked from the other side as the rest of them moved forward. 

They sprinted for the lifts and flung themselves inside. They had gone down about two decks when it came to a shuddering halt.

“Well, that’s a bit not good,” commented Veers dryly. 

“They’ve overridden the controls,” Piett said, opening the panel and examining the wires.

Leia focused. Her Father was the best at manipulating mechanical things, but…..

The lift shuddered and moved a bit further down, but she couldn’t get a good grip in the Force.

Piett looked at her. “Valiant attempt, my dear, but save your strength.” He examined the wires and then began to pull them out and work on them.

“Since when do you hotwire things, Admiral?” asked Veers over his shoulder

“Do you know how many times Lord Vader has made me work on ships with him? I may be an Admiral, but I’m not completely inept in other areas, Max.” 

Leia knew her Father’s manipulative ways. She also knew it was his way of befriending his Admiral and she smiled. 

And suddenly the lift was moving again.

The General raised impressed eyebrows at his friend. 

“Want to help with some repairs on the Herd when we get back?”

The Admiral snorted in amusement and gripped his blaster as they sped toward the bay. 

She sensed the men waiting for them and stepped in front of their group, igniting her blade the moment the doors opened, and deflecting blaster fire. 

It was a mad dash for the ship after that, fire raining at them. One of their men was hit, and the trooper next to him dragged him along. 

Leia put all her strength toward controlling the bay’s atmospheric shield controls once they were all aboard and the pilot was lifting off the deck….

“I can’t get the controls!” she gasped, kicking herself internally. “I’m sorry I’m not as good with mechanical things….”

“We could try firing our way out...” Veers said, but Piett had a hand on her arm.

“Try for the man operating them, my dear,” he suggested, “I know you can do that.”

His confidence helped her and she reached for the bay operator.

_ Open the atmospheric shield. _

“It’s down!” shouted the pilot and they were shooting out of the cruiser and into open space….

….where two Star Destroyers had suddenly appeared.

  
  


****

“For kriff’s sake, how many things today?” snarled Veers as the pilot flung their ship into a dive. He was utterly fed up with Imperials. And wasn’t that still an amusing thought.

_ To get so far only to get tractored by a Star Destroyer…. _

He met Piett’s eyes and saw similar frustration. 

“We just have to evade the tractor beams,” the princess ordered firmly. 

“Ma’am, that’s a fairly tall order!” the pilot called as they went skimming under one of the Destroyers, pursued by TIEs.

“They’re trying to capture us, not kill us,” she said confidently.

“We can’t do this indefinitely, your highness,” Veers said, puzzled as she gave him a wide smile and gripped the Admiral’s arm next to her. 

“I know, General. We won’t.”

And then Piett gave a startled exclamation, and Veers looked out the viewport to see a familiar sight.

The Lady dropped out of hyperspace, her red running lights very prominent as she opened fire on the port Star Destroyer, raking it with devastating turbolasers relentlessly.

“Oh kriff,” the pilot muttered, frantically nursing speed out of the transport to get away from the bigger ship….

It exploded and they were flung on the blast wave, all power knocked out. They drifted and watched as the second Star Destroyer fled into lightspeed, and then came a welcome shudder in the ship as the Lady tractored them in. 

“I realize that what I did was somewhat….rash,” the princess said, holding onto Piett’s arm as they walked down the ramp to the very welcome deck of the Lady, “but I did have the best back up coming.”

The Admiral chuckled. “I cannot argue with that.”

An anxious Kelly was waiting for them, along with Henley and a team of medics. The injured trooper was cared for and the doctor approached them. 

“All right, how bad is it?” he asked, running his scanner.

“Just bruises,” Veers replied, eager to get a shower and eat. Nothing like being kidnapped and fighting your way out to build an appetite.

The doctor snorted. “Just bruises. It’s you two, that  _ never…… _ .well.” He looked up at both Piett and Veers, and the General allowed himself a smug smile.

“Just bruises.” He glared at Veers. “Do not for one second think, General Veers, that  _ one _ time where you are relatively uninjured, makes up for the ridiculous amounts of stress and worry you put me through all the other times!”

_ Doctor. A bit of a slip there. Piett and the princess had caught it too. _

“You get  _ worried _ about us, Doctor?” Veers asked with a wide grin, one echoed by the Admiral and her highness.

Henley’s face was priceless as he realized what he had said.

“I meant  _ irritation _ of course….” he attempted to walk it back, but Veers was not missing this opportunity.

“Doctor. It’s nice to know you care,” Veers informed him, giving him a little pat on the shoulder as he joined his friend and the princess to walk out of the bay.

He and Piett shared smiles when they heard the Doctor behind them.

“Damn it!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also shameless plug:
> 
> I'm writing a Star Wars Western AU. Check it out if that sounds fun (I am having ridiculous amounts of fun with it) and no worries if that's not your thing! Thanks! :)


	83. Fevered conversation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vader learns of a trap set for Luke and goes to dismantle it. Since Piett is the only one who knows Luke is his son, he naturally is tapped to come along.   
> He really shouldn't talk when he's delirious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had fun in a previous one shot of giving Piett a fever on the bridge which took away his filters. I thought, why not do that to him and have Vader take advantage of it, since he's terrible at peopling and is trying to figure it out?
> 
> This takes place between Lord Vader Down and He Who Sheds His Blood

_ I sound like Darth Vader,  _ Piett thought but somehow knew he shouldn’t say that. Why? 

He listened to his breathing once more and felt the constricting pull of lungs that would rather implode.

Definitely sounded like Darth Vader. Who….

….was piloting the shuttle right next to him. 

Right.

Piett sat up a little straighter and immediately that helmet swung his way.

“Something is amiss, Admiral.”

Kriff it. He may not actively fear for his life anymore since the revelation of Vader’s son being Luke Skywalker, but they didn’t exactly sit around and share personal details. Certainly not on a mission. Or about their respective health.

“Ah, just a slight….”

And Piett’s lungs attempted to flee the shuttle.

He managed to sit up and wheeze in air once more and blink the tears from his eyes.

“Apologies my Lord. I think…”

Thunk.

And the shuttle began screaming alarms at them.

Piett looked at the emotionless helmet for a beat, and then both of them were focused on the control board in front of them.

_ Hells… _ .

“My Lord, it appears we were clipped by the remains of some sort of ship…” he trailed off as said remains became visible in their viewport. They were huge. It was a miracle they hadn’t been splattered all over it.

“How did the proximity alarms miss it?” growled his Lordship.

_ How did  _ **_you_ ** _ miss it? _ Piett thought, but was still grounded enough not to say aloud. 

“If I had not been wondering about your appalling health, Admiral, no doubt I would have seen it.”

_ Apparently his thoughts were open then. _

“Apologies, my Lord, it was of course all my fault,” he said as coolly as possible, fingers flying over the control panel in an attempt to both compensate for the missing engine and send a distress call to the Lady.

“Quite,” said the Sith nursing impossible things from the flailing shuttle as they headed back toward the atmosphere of the planet they had just left.

The very inhospitable and nearly unpopulated planet with temperatures that had caused this cold of Piett’s to get quite a bit worse in his lungs.

_ “I require you for a mission, Admiral,” Lord Vader had said, and Piett had managed to successfully stifle a sneeze as he looked up from his desk, marvelling anew at the way his huge Sith commander could be so utterly silent when he wanted to be. _

_ “Of course, my Lord,” he had responded, because what else did one say? It would mean that all the paperwork on his desk would no doubt avalanche in his absence, but…. _

_ “Do you wish me to put a team together?” he’d asked. _

_ “Only you. We are dealing with….my son.” _

_ Ah.  _

_ “I trust that he is unharmed, my Lord?” _

_ “He is. And I wish him to remain that way. It has come to my attention that a trap has been set for him.” _

_ He raised a hand against Piett’s questioning look. _

_ “It does not concern you how I know this. What is important, is that we dismantle this trap. As it is set for a Jedi, I felt it….prudent to bring another individual along.” _

_ Prudence from Lord Vader. Piett had not been aware that word was in his vocabulary. But then, the last mission Lord Vader had undertaken solo had required Piett to comm Skywalker for help to retrieve him.* So, growth then. _

Of course he had become ill then too. The Force certainly had quite the timing for these missions and aligning them with his lack of health. Of course, he hadn’t really had a chance to recover fully from the strain Bespin, and the hunt for Skywalker had put on him and thus, he was more susceptible to these viruses. But he wasn’t  _ about _ to ask for time off…..

That may not matter in the long run if they didn’t survive this inevitable shuttle crash however.

“I find your lack of faith in my piloting, disturbing, Piett.”

“My Lord…..” how did he protest that he wasn’t saying any of this aloud?

The comms sprang to life, sparring him a reply and he slapped at the switch as his commander wrestled with the controls---they were almost in the atmosphere now.

“Shuttle Vespasian, this is the Executor, we received your distress signal. What is your status?”

_ Well at least the Lady would have an idea of where their remains were.  _

And the damn helmet tilted at him again. Apparently, he was to have no privacy in his head.

“Executor, this is Vespasian. Engine failure on the port side-- we are seeking a….."

He was aware that his lordship was listening.

“....controlled landing on the planet. These coordinates are accurate. Send….”

“Henley,” interrupted Lord Vader. “Only Henley, Piett, this is a covert mission.”

_ Son of a Hutt. _

“Send a medical ship with Dr. Henley and…”

A new voice cut across the comms officer.

“Admiral, we need to send you a rescue team….”

“Absolutely not, General Veers,” said Lord Vader, managing to both bring the shuttle into atmosphere and switch the communications to himself. 

_ Why was Piett here again? _

“My Lord.” A pause. “We cannot send the Doctor by himself. It is a security risk and…”   
  


“You will accompany him, General. Clearly that is your desire. Choose a pilot you trust.”

“Yes…..ord…..ou….all ….?”

And it cut out.

Piett could see the tundra rushing up at them…

“Strap in, Admiral,” his commander ordered and Piett obeyed.

And the shuttle screamed in protest at the treatment it received as he was slammed back into the seat, and then not only was Lord Vader piloting, but clearly using the Force…..

...and they landed. Intact. 

Piett took a breath and promptly doubled over in coughing that felt like someone was repeatedly thrusting spears into his chest. 

Something rested on his shoulder. Something heavy and it was brief but….

Lord Vader had rested a hand on his shoulder. 

Piett managed to get his breathing back under control and look over at the imperturbable mask.

“Sorry, my Lord.”

“We will need to rework this shuttle to provide us adequate warmth and shelter while we wait, Admiral.”

Piett looked out at the barren landscape and considered.

“And you believe that to be preferable to finding shelter planetside, my Lord? We could start a fire outside…”

“Do you see any fuel sources, Piett?”

“Ah. No.”

“Then you are going to receive some very enlightening lessons in mechanics, Admiral.”

Piett worked very hard to keep both his mind and his face blank. 

“Indeed, my Lord?”

That dark finger pointed at him and Piett was starting to cross that line between caring and utterly not giving a kriff, as his temperature reasserted itself.

“That sounded like a tone, Piett.”

“I was not intending it, my Lord,” he said primly, and realized that he’d certainly had a tone just  _ then _ .

A strange sound from the vocoder. 

_ Laughter? _

_   
_   
“Let us see if we can at least nurse enough power from the ship to keep the heat working. As we know they are coming, we merely need to survive.”

“Quite, my Lord.”

And the Dark Lord rose abruptly to sweep into the back. Piett followed more slowly, trying to breathe shallowly so that he wasn’t feeling continually knifed in the lungs. Now that the adrenaline of the crash was leaving him, his brain was reminding him that he had a fever and his clarity was questionable.

He entered the hold to find that Lord Vader already had two panels open in the floor to access numerous wires. Piett found the medkit first and gave himself something to reduce his temperature as well as welcome painkillers. 

If his lordship noticed, he made no comment, merely removed the cape and laid it over one of the seats to the side of the hold. 

“What is your mechanical background, Piett?”

“I had the courses required by the Imperial Academy, my Lord. The rest I picked up from necessity of living in a sector with very few resources.”

That noise was definitely a snort, though it sounded odd in the vocoder.

“Imperial Academy courses are a complete waste.”

“As you say, my Lord.” 

Piett himself had learned most of his useful knowledge from his service in the Axxilan forces. What he had learned from the Imperial courses was how to fit in and work in the Empire. Thus, his impeccable Core accent which hid any trace of his origins. 

“All right Admiral, move the red wire there and attach it,  _ carefully _ to the blue one.”

Piett knelt by the Sith Lord and obeyed his instructions, marvelling internally at his knowledge of the ship.

_ Where had he learned this? _

The helmet tilted again and he sighed.

“I have a natural knowledge with machines, Admiral. I am self taught.”

“My Lord…” he stopped. The fever was tempting him to be dangerously bold.

Vader paused to regard him. 

“You wish me to stop reading your thoughts.”

_ Kriff _ .

“I…” Unbidden the memory of Lord Vader telling him Skywalker was his son rose up. He trusted him with that. Surely, he could say this without retribution.

“Yes please, my Lord. I am seeking to respect your position and…”

“Admiral.”

He stopped.

“I will endeavor to block your thoughts.”

“Thank you, my Lord.”

The temperature in the shuttle was dropping rapidly, and Piett realized that he could see his breath after they had been working for about 45 minutes.

90 minutes in, he dropped a spanner, as his hand was shaking badly, and it clanged to the deck just out of Lord Vader’s reach.

“I am very sorry, my Lord…”

“Piett. I shall continue on my own. You should try to move around to keep warm.”

And it was good advice, it was. But Piett was starting to feel as though his brain and his body were not on speaking terms. 

_ Still. _

_ He had always done his best. _

He pushed up from the deck and promptly went back to his knees.

_ Son of a Hutt. _

“Indeed.”  _ And that tone was amused...had he said that  _ **_aloud_ ** _?? _

“You did, Admiral.”

His commander rose and came to him, and before Piett could comprehend what was happening, a black durasteel arm was around his waist and he was on his feet and being steered to the row of seats on the left side of the shuttle.

“Lie down, Piett. This is why you inform me when you are unfit for duty.”

“Thought you could tell,” Piett mumbled, and froze.  _ Kriffing, kriffing hell, this fever was burning away all his filters and he was going to get himself throttled for disrespect….. _

“I try to respect your  _ privacy _ , Admiral. And I thought we had established that it would take too much time to train another Admiral. Throttling will not occur.”

A pause, and Piett tried to repress the plasma fire in his chest but it came raging forth once more, leaving him helpless and limp on the seats.

_ Wonderful. A mission with Darth Vader and he was down with a chest infection. _

Something very heavy and warm was draped over him and he realized that he had closed his eyes.

He opened them and felt the fabric of the…

...cape. 

Piett’s poor beleaguered brain tried to understand. Lord Vader had covered him with his….cape.

“It’s heavy,” he blurted.  _ Stars, all filters were gone. No talking Piett. _

“Yes,” came the amused reply. “It’s blaster proof.”

“S’mart,” Piett commented. “Should be... standard issue.”

“Hmm. A bit too expensive for the average trooper, Admiral.”

And then the Dark Lord gave a triumphant noise. 

“I told you to have more faith, Piett. I have restored our heat.”

_ Was he doubting that at some point? _ _   
  
_

“And well done, you, my Lord.”

  
  


****

Vader regarded his Admiral as he shuddered under his cloak, and struggled through another horrific coughing fit.

_ He shouldn’t be here. _

But he could trust no one else to join him in this mission, and they had been successful in destroying the trap laid for Luke.

But once again, his burning desire to keep his son safe, had made him oblivious to the safety of others under his command. 

_ I’m trying, _ he thought.  _ I should have realized on the Lady _ . And Piett clearly would never request time off for himself. It would have to be forced upon him. 

The Admiral was heading into proper delirium now, and Vader was glad he had insisted on Henley. He’d known he could land the shuttle without too much damage. He’d also known, once he’d been aware enough to pay the attention to Piett that he ought to have, that the man needed the Doctor.

Not a Sith fumbling around with utterly no ability when it came to compassion. Because clearly, Piett had been battling this for a while.

Veers was going to give him the death glare he had perfected before Bespin. He deserved it, no question. 

“How long have you been struggling with your health, Admiral?” he sighed, and was surprised when Piett opened fever bright eyes.

“Before Bespin. Couldn’t sleep. Hunting your son. Bound to be detrimental to health. Look at Ozzel.”

The Admiral clearly didn’t realize his circumstances and audience. But Vader had an opportunity here, and he supposed it was terrible, but as he was utterly useless at human interaction anymore, he was going to take it. These were the most honest answers he’d get from someone under his command at the moment. 

“Why do you not take sick leave, Piett?”

“Can’t be...weak. And need to be there for the men.”

_ He needed to stand between Vader and the men. As he had been doing for months… _

He was hit with the realization that Piett had made sure to be on the bridge as often as he had so that he could head off potential Force choking offenses before they manifested.

No wonder the man was exhausted to his core. He could feel it.

Vader retrieved a water bottle as Piett coughed again and opened it for him. 

“Admiral. I realize you probably will not recall this, but…..I promise you I will not kill any of our men. You do not have to sacrifice your health to protect them anymore.”

Those hazel eyes pierced him.

“You swear it?”

“Yes.”

Piett nodded to himself, propping himself up slightly to drink the water. 

Vader took it from him before he could spill the rest. Piett’s breathing rasped.

“I sound….like you,” his Admiral said, and Vader smiled under the mask.

“You are quite amusing to talk to when you’re uninhibited, Piett.”

“I’m….very funny. Ask...Max,” the man replied, easing back down and pointing a finger at him. 

Someone else was pointing a finger in  _ his _ direction. New experience.

“I would assume Veers is still feeling rather unforgiving toward me,” Vader commented. 

Piett sighed and lay back, frowning. “Well. You’ve been…..  _ moody _ up to recently. And he still doesn’t know why you were behaving like that. We missed the old Darth Vader.”

Moody. Piett would be horrified if he knew he had called his commander  _ moody _ . 

_ Fair point though _ , his brain said, sounding much like Obi-Wan.

“What was the ‘old’ Darth Vader like, Admiral?”

Piett had his eyes closed and was rubbing at his forehead. 

“Still very Sith obviously…”

“Obviously,” Vader agreed seriously. 

“But he seemed to….  _ care _ about Death Squadron. I’m reasonably sure there was a time that he wanted Max and I to lead because we felt that way about our men too.” 

_ I do care, Admiral. I’m just appalling at showing that. I’m trying to earn that trust back.  _

“He leads from the front. Still does. Always admired that. “

“Thank you, Piett,” Vader replied quietly. 

“Mm.” His Admiral still had his eyes closed and it occurred to Vader…  _ Piett got migraines didn’t he? _

“Admiral…” he didn’t know how to help. He pulled out the scanner from the medkit and ran Piett’s temperature.

104.

That wasn’t good, though it explained the delirium. 

“Does your head hurt?” he asked.

A small snort. “Competing with my lungs.” A thought seemed to occur.

“Do you still have lungs? I know you’re not just….a machine.”

“Do you now?”

Piett cracked one eye open. “Saw you….without the helmet once. Just the back. Sorry. Didn’t mean to. Looked bad.”

Bad was a kriffing understatement. But he was picking up feelings of  _ compassion _ from Piett, sick as he was. 

“I...have lungs,” Vader responded, secure that Piett would remember none of this. “But they are badly damaged. And yours are sounding about the same at the moment, Admiral.”

_ Had Piett had a painkiller? Why had he not thought of that? _ He had no idea how to….take care of someone.

_ Not true _ , his brain whispered.  _ You managed with Luke _ .

_ After cutting off his hand, _ he thought angrily at himself.

Vader found a hypospray in the kit. “Have you had a painkiller, Admiral?”

“Think so. Can’t….remember.  _ Kriff _ .”

Well if he had, it had surely been long enough to administer another. He pressed it to Piett’s neck and the Admiral’s eyes flew open in surprise.

“Am I dreaming?”

Vader wasn’t sure how he wanted to answer that. 

“Not….exactly.”   
  


“Never dreamed Darth Vader as Henley before. Not sure why. Henley would be a….. _ terrifying _ Sith.”

_ And that…...should he be insulted? _

“He would,” Vader agreed, and Piett lost the battle to another coughing fit. It looked and sounded terrible and Vader couldn’t help the hand he brought to his Admiral’s shoulder, stabilizing him through it. 

“My Lord,” Piett panted. 

_ Was he lucid? _

“Sorry….about this.”

“When I am sure you will remember the conversation, Admiral, we will discuss the mandatory sick days you will take. And I will be sure to enforce them personally.”

“Did you and…..Henley switch...jobs?” Piett asked, puzzled, and no, he was not completely lucid then. 

Piett was grinning at this thought, and Vader realized that he had never seen the Admiral smile like that. He had allowed himself small quirks of the mouth in Vader’s presence, but  _ never _ a wide smile. 

Repression and fear. Those had been his tools. The tools of the Empire. He desired that no longer. But, as he well knew, the consequences of his actions would take a long time to undo. Not everyone was like Luke---so sunny and ready to forgive. 

He wondered if he would ever see the Admiral smile like that once he was himself again. Or, heavens, Veers. Had he ever seen the General smile?

And some small part of himself, the part that was rebelliously Anakin, resolved that he would strive for these men to feel as though they could be that part of themselves with him.

“Admiral,” he said quietly, knowing Piett would not recall this, “you are the best man I ever served with. And that includes Obi-Wan who was a kriffing nuisance all the time.”

_ Liar, _ his brain whispered. 

Piett’s eyes were closed again and Vader ran a scan.

104.3 

Damn it.

What was good? Cold. He found a cold pack in the kit and cracked it to get it activated. How did it work? Should it go directly or….?

_ Kriff, the Chosen One who wielded the Force and he didn’t know how to bring down a fever. _

His prosthetic was registering the cold. He found a rag in the tool kit and wrapped the pack in that before placing it carefully on the Admiral’s forehead.

And he sensed engines before he heard them. 

*****

Piett felt delicious cold on his head. 

He cracked his eyes briefly to see a black hand above his face. 

_ A black... _

But that was impossible, and he was delirious because Darth Vader would  _ never… _ .

He drifted.

He had no idea of the passage of time, but he came to himself and found he was aboard one of the Lady’s medical transports. 

Henley’s irritated countenance was above him and he didn’t even mind—-he was comfortable, and light didn’t hurt, and if he had lungs they were not reminding him of that fact by stabbing him. 

More marvelous cold contacted his head, and then Max’s face was there too. 

The General was holding a cold pack to his head.

“Thank you, Max,” he sighed.

“Back with us then, Admiral?” Henley clipped, scanning his chest before tugging soft blankets back up to his shoulders. 

_ Hadn’t he had something heavy and smooth….? _

“Can these repel blasters?” he asked, causing the Doctor and the General to exchange a look. 

_ Why had he said that? _

“Firmus…..”

“Sorry, I just thought…..it’s nothing.”

“In the future, Admiral Piett,” Henley began in his most arrogant and pedantic tones. Piett sighed and resigned himself. “You will come to me at the  _ first _ sign of a chest cold rather than waiting for it to turn into pneumonia!”

“Do I have….?”

“No, but you were  _ seconds _ away from it. And given the appalling state of your health for months now, you are more susceptible to this sort of thing. And thus…”

“Where’s Lord Vader?” Piett asked abruptly, and the Doctor looked as though Piett had slapped his face by being interrupted mid-tirade.

“Piloting, naturally, Firmus. He seems unharmed.”   
  


“He is, General. I checked because I am a  _ Doctor _ and I know my  _ job _ .  _ You _ , on other hand Admiral, are on sick leave until further notice. As in-- _ indefinitely _ . Until  _ I _ decide.”

_ The smug expression was unbearable. _

Veers laid a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. 

Piett opened his mouth and Henley leaned in for the coup de grace.

“And those orders are directly from Lord Vader, lest you were thinking you could get around that way just because he values you.”

_ The orders were from…..he  _ **_valued_ ** _ him? _

Henley rolled his eyes at whatever he could see on Piett’s face. 

“All of you are impossible. I had a Sith Lord practically hovering like a mother hen when we got here, a General who trusts no one but himself when it comes to you--- _ don’t deny it Veers, you barely trust my medical degree _ \---and an Admiral who is determined to protect everyone in the galaxy including his Sith commander! It’s a kriffing miracle you people have me to sort through your numerous psychological issues, emotional cripples the lot of you…”

He moved away to do something on the other side of the ship and Veers perched on the edge of Piett’s bed.

“I take it the mission was successful then? Aside from the shuttle crashing bit?”

“It was,” Piett yawned. “Though I think that I was delirious in front of Darth Vader.”

Veers snorted. “With a fever that high? No question. Though he was trying to bring it down. I have to say I didn’t expect to see our resident Sith Lord holding a cold pack on your forehead.”

He’d been feeling sleepy but adrenaline coursed through him at that.

“No. That wasn’t real. He wouldn’t….”

Veers angled an amused look down at him

“He was.”

_ Kriffing hell. Because if that was real….. _

“Max, I may have….oh  _ Force… _ .how much was real?”

“Firmus, I would try to forget about anything you thought you said. If Lord Vader doesn’t say anything, why should you?”

Wise words indeed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Lord Vader Down
> 
> I'm reasonably sure I owe credit to Malicean for the idea that Vader's cape can repel blaster fire. Very cool idea!


	84. Out of darkness, light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Veers is injured, Leia does her best to keep him awake and learns his side of Bespin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These two. I have so loved developing the relationship that Piett and Leia have, but I also love the way she and Veers have grown, largely due to their mutual fondness for the Admiral.   
> A little exploration of them working together.

Veers didn’t even hesitate. He grabbed her around the waist and threw her bodily away as far as he could before the ground disappeared, taking him with it.

“General!” Leia screamed, clawing at the earth and pulling herself away further from the chasm that had just opened in front of them. 

The thunderous rumbles died away, and she lay panting for a moment to get her wits about her before shoving up and moving to peer over the edge of what had once been secure and sloping ground. 

She couldn’t see him among the debris and stood shakily to get her surroundings. There. If she went about 50 yards to the right she could start going down safely. 

She sprinted wondering if more earth would give way but it stayed firm and she stumbled and hurried her way to the bottom of the slide. 

_ Oh kriff. _

Large tree branches, rocks and packed earth were piled before her.

_ Are you a Jedi or not? _ Her brain supplied.  _ Find him! _

She reached in the Force for life signatures. There were numerous small ones…..just as she was starting to panic that he was dead, she found a much larger signature. There. Near that tree.

_ Double kriff. _

She climbed, slipping and cursing up the debris, ignoring the scrapes and bruises she was accumulating in her rush to reach him.

And at last she could see him. He was coated in dust and had ended on his back, blood streaking the side of his face and his arm was flung out. He was also pinned by the tree and Leia knew that wasn’t going to have been good for him in any way. 

“General!” she called, reaching him finally and kneeling at his side, placing her fingers to the pulse in his neck.

It was rapid and strong and she hoped that was a good sign.

She moved to examine the tree that pinned his legs. A small broken branch had driven into the flesh of his calf, but she was more concerned with the right leg. Definitely broken and quite badly. She was relieved that the bone hadn’t broken the skin because then a clock would be ticking urgently. However, she couldn’t move him from under the tree…..

_ The Force, Leia. _

Even now, it was hard for her to naturally default to this huge and mysterious power that she had inherited.

And she was still learning to overcome the mental blocks of lifting large things. Luke had sympathized and told her that Yoda had utterly schooled him when he gave up far too easily.

_ “You’re not like that, though, twin. You hate giving up at anything. You can do this.” _

She took a breath and focused.

_ Veers was alive. She could keep him that way.  _

_ People were counting on her to save him. The Admiral, her father, the Herd…. _

_ And he was her friend. Had just saved her from grievous injury or death. _

She stretched her hand out and bent her thoughts to the tree. The wind was blowing it away--it was merely a blade of grass--

With a thunderous impact the tree moved to fall about thirty yards behind her and she was scrambling back to the side of the General. 

Whose grey eyes were open and aware.

_ Well triple kriff. She had really hoped he would stay unconscious for a while. _

“General?” she asked carefully, kneeling beside him once more.

He locked onto her at once with that intense gaze.

“You….alright?” he asked.

Of course he did. Something he and her Admiral shared---immediate focus on other’s well being.

“I’m fine, thanks to you. No, don’t,” she said stopping him from moving with a hand to his shoulder. “Your leg is broken. Can you feel any other injuries I should know about?”

He paused. “I may have a few broken ribs. Did I imagine a tree flying….?”   
  


She smiled at him. “No. That’s how your leg was broken. I just removed the tree.”

“You removed….” he looked at her. “You do know you’re getting frighteningly good at that, right?”

“Thank you. But we need to get you off of this pile in case it shifts once more, and into shelter.”   
  


Rain clouds were gathering.

“Do you….have your comm?” he asked and bit his lip, pain crossing his stern face.

_ It must be bad for the ‘Iron General’ to show that level of reaction. _

“Sadly no. You?”

He moved to check and stopped, turning white under the dirt. 

“I’ll check,” Leia told him, patting his chest gently and searching his pockets. No luck.

“I’m sorry,” she said, looking up at the sky as thunder rumbled. She looked back down at Veers.

“General. I do have a way to communicate. And Luke can get word to the Admiral. I’m going to scout a shelter for us. I’ll be back soon. Please hold on.”

He nodded and closed his eyes.

She scrambled back down the muddled collection of detritus and searched the surrounding area. 

_ She would have to use the Force to move the General. Oh kriff, she would have to….What if she dropped him? _

There. She could see a natural area in the trees to the west where the ground overhung a small dip in the earth.

_ Luke. _

A pause. Then…

_ Leia? I thought you were on a mission…. _

_ I am. _

_ Uh oh. _

_ Luke, I need you to find a way to contact the Admiral. Get him here. We need medics. _

_ Leia, are you…? _ _   
  
_

_ I’m fine. The General is not. _

_ Are there enemies? _

_ Only the elements. This was a supply mission. _

_ What should I say in terms of your coordinates? _

_ We’re probably about a mile off of where we were scouting. Tell him to hurry. _

_ I will. Be safe. I love you! _

_ I love you, Luke. _

She had made it back to Veers during the conversation. 

“General?” She put a hand to his head. He didn’t stir.

_ Please let him be alive. _

She checked his pulse. There, but threadier.

Well, perhaps it was a mercy he was unconscious for this. 

She focused. _ Force please let me do this _ . Because she didn’t dare drag him with that leg. The break could come through the skin.

Slowly, he rose into the air and she focused on not letting his limbs move at all as she walked carefully over the ground to the spot she had selected. He lowered slowly to the grassy area and she gasped for breath, sweat running down her temples.

_ But she had done it. _

Swiftly, racing the ever darkening sky, she began to gather branches to create more shelter than the embankment afforded them. She took off her poncho and draped it over the top, fastening it firmly in case the wind really picked up. 

Of course, now she was chilly. And if she was….

She moved to Veers’ side once more and found that he was returning to consciousness.

“General. Help is coming. I….I have nothing to give you…”   


But that wasn’t quite true. She had been studying Force healing after all. But putting together broken bones was not something she felt confident enough with yet.

However, she could try to ease his pain.

The first rain drops began to spatter outside their shelter, but Leia had chosen the area well. The trees above them helped as well as her little makeshift shelter.

She ran her hands carefully along his ribs, feeling for the broken ones. 

“General, I’m going to get behind you, try and share heat--is that all right?”

“Do what….you...need to,” he managed, and she shifted as carefully as possible. He tried to help her and moved to lean against her. She could feel the tension of pain in his muscles.

“Do you know…..how long…?” Veers began.

“Sorry, no,” she replied. “Luke is contacting the Admiral. But he was on the other hemisphere. I am not sure how long it takes to reach our position. So, please try to stay awake.” She paused.

“General….I can try to…..reduce your pain. With the Force.”

He leaned heavily against her, his head resting on her shoulder and he angled it to look at her for a long minute.

“All right then, your highness. Give it….a go.”

She focused on the leg and the pain receptors there, soothing and calming the response, trying to convince the brain not to pay attention….

She felt him relax against her and he was  _ heavy _ . She could barely fit her arms around him.

“Better?” she asked.

“Thank you. Yes.”

They were both quiet for a while, watching the rain come down more heavily outside their little shelter, getting their boots and the lower part of their trousers wet.

She could feel him fighting to stay conscious.

“General!” she said sharply. “Talk to me.”   
  


“About….what?”

“Anything. Um...is this the worst situation you’ve ever faced on a mission?”

“No,” he said immediately. 

“Well that’s good,” she responded. “It’s certainly not mine either.”

“What was the….worst one, your… highness?” he asked after a minute.

She hesitated, and he realized what he was asking of her a moment later.

“Sorry...I…”

“No. General. I…” she didn’t know why she wanted to tell him. But she did.

“Bespin,” she said softly. He nodded, unsurprised.

“And you?” she asked.

“I would have said….Hoth,” he told her and gathered himself, trying and failing to repress a little moan.

She put a hand to the short cropped blonde hair. “I’m sorry. I wish I had pain killers.”

“Not...your fault. Firmus’d never forgive...me….if ...you fell.”

She smiled. “I think you need to remember that the Admiral feels the same for you. I have a brother now, I know how it is.”

“So not Hoth,” she continued, trying to distract him. “My understanding was that it was pretty bad for you.”

He huffed a slight laugh.

“There was…..a time….you….would have been delighted.”

“I agree were it two years ago. But General, we’ve all changed. Our perspectives are different. You know that. I’m so very glad you made it. So what was your worst mission situa----?”

“Bespin.”

_ Well. That was unexpected. _

“I have to confess, I’m not sure I understand. You got Luke there. And….and Han…”

“Yes. But highness….your Father...at the time…” he broke off and breathed through his nose, and she tried to help the pain once more in the Force.

“Thank you,” he gasped. 

“Please hang on, dear General.”

He smiled slightly at that. “I’m not...Piett, princess.”   
  


“But you  _ are _ dear to us,” she informed him, tightening her arms around him slightly. “I shall have to remind you of that on occasion.”

“Thank you,” he said after a moment.

“So why was it…?” she pressed, curious now, she had to admit.

“Firmus hasn’t told you?”

“Not much. Only that….it was a bad time for you all.”

Veers snorted and winced. 

“The man is a kriffing...  _ master _ of understatement.”

“All we knew, your highness….was that….Darth Vader was….obsessed with getting your brother. So much so…..that he didn’t care what resources were….spent… to get him.”

He paused.

“Including...people.”

She nodded. Rumors had reached the Rebel fleet of Darth Vader’s ways of dealing with officers who failed. There were numerous jokes about him being a secret agent of the Alliance at the rate he was going through men.

“You should….know….Piett and I….we’ve made….our peace with...your Father. But….it was then that I wanted to kill him.”

She was stunned. 

“He had promoted Piett five ranks after…..throttling Ozzel.”

_ That rumor was confirmed then _ .

“Piett was….driving himself….trying to keep the….men safe from your….Father’s wrath. He was ….sure….he was going to die.”   
  


_ Dearest Admiral. _ Leia tried to remember that her father was not that man anymore.

“When your ship….got away….well.”

Veers breathed through his pain for a few minutes.

“Vader summoned Piett two days later. I know….now...it was to tell him…..about your brother. But I thought, he was going to….kill him.” He closed his eyes and shuddered slightly.

“I got a message from Vader shortly after…..to come …..to his quarters.”

Leia could guess. “You thought he was going to have you get…..the body.”   
  


“Yes.”

_ Oh General. What awful agony that must have been. _

“I’m so sorry. What did you…?”

  
  
“I went...to kill him.”

“You  _ literally… _ ?”

“I took my blaster. Knew….I didn’t have…..a chance, but I could die….next to...my best friend.”

_ Force. He was willing to go up against a Sith Lord for Piett. _

“General,” she said, “I hope you know just how grateful I am for your courage. And your loyalty.”

She kissed his head on impulse and was amused to see that ‘Iron Max’ could blush still.

“Firmus’d do the ...same….for me. Has. On...numerous….occasions.”

They were silent for a while, the only sounds the rain’s steady beat and the General’s labored breaths.

“I have often thought in the last two years,” said Leia, “how remarkable it was that my Father had you and the Admiral in senior positions in his fleet. And…..as I have come to know you both better, it has gone a long way in allowing me to be at peace with him. Some things are…..unalterable…”   
  


He moved slightly to raise his hand to the ones she had clasped across his chest.

_ Thank you, General. _

“...but the part of him I think of as  _ Anakin _ clearly wanted men like you to have influence and leadership over his crew. I…”

She paused again, marvelling that she was in this position.

“I still abhor what happened at Bespin. I wish it could have been different. For  _ all _ of us. But….if that is what it took to allow all of us to come to this point…”   
  


“Yes,” he said quietly. “I agree.”

The whine of engines sounded, and hope shot through her.

“General….does the Admiral know what you went there to do that day?”

“No. Let’s…..keep it...that way, yes?”

She tightened her hold carefully. She and the General had always had an unspoken understanding when it came to looking out for their Admiral.

“I can do that,” she said, watching a slight figure hurrying toward them, a med team behind him.


	85. Baby on Board

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anakin, who really should know better, wishes things were different while meditating deeply in the Force. Result? Baby Leia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Crack is not my usual fare but the muse demanded that I give this a shot. And it was fun. Being that angst IS my usual fare it snuck in too because well....these characters have been through an awful lot and have some raw issues when it comes to family.
> 
> Big thank you to MilkyWayGalaxy for the prompt (among several good ones!)

His comm was pinging. Surely it wasn’t time yet. He slapped at his side table and his fumbling fingers found the comm at last.

Praying that he wasn’t needed on the bridge (it had been a 16 hour shift and he was barely standing at the end) he flicked the switch.

And flinched as a deafening scream came from the other end.

“ _ Stars… _ .!”   
  


“Sorry, I’m so sorry Admiral for the hour, and for the screaming,” came Luke Skywalker’s apologetic voice. 

He sat up and the Lady considerately turned on the lights to a low setting in his sleeping quarters. 

He squinted at the chronometer. _ Lovely. He’d been asleep two hours. _

“Are you murdering someone, Skywalker? Because I’ll be honest I’d really like to have plausible deniability….”

“No sir. But….can you come to my Father’s quarters? Um….now?”

Another ear curdling shriek came across the connection.

Piett’s tired brain had a second of wondering whether Lord Vader was resuming his Force throttling ways, but dismissed it. Skywalker wouldn’t be this calm and he didn’t need Piett’s help to stop his father.

“Right. Give me a moment and I’ll be there.”   
  


“Thanks, Admiral. Again...so sorry.”

Piett stumbled into a fresh uniform hoping it would magically help him feel more awake and made his way to Lord Vader’s quarters when he was on the Executor.

The doors slide open to admit him and his hearing was assaulted again this time with far greater volume.

The young Jedi met him, looking sheepish. 

  
  
“Sorry sir, you were the only one we could think of to comm who might have a shot with her.”

“With…..?”

And the commander moved aside to allow the Admiral a view of his commanding officer desperately trying to calm a screaming baby. 

A baby. 

On the Lady.

The lights in the quarters flashed red. 

_ The Lady was angry? _

“What’s going on?” he asked, then recalled himself. “That is---my Lord, who is this child and why is she aboard my ship?”

The ex-Sith raised exhausted and…. _ guilty _ eyes to his.

“Ah. That, Admiral, is not the most simple answer…”

Piett raised an eyebrow, his instinct warning him. Skywalker had looked sheepish, his commander guilty…..

“I’m going to hate this, aren’t I?” he sighed.

The lights flashed red again.

“My Lord, why is the Lady angry?”

His commander sighed.”She’s angry with me, Piett…”

“Well, sure,” put in his son, “but she could also be reflecting Leia right now.”

_ The princess was angry? _

“Um. Where is her highness?” Piett asked. 

Skywalker and his father looked at eachother.

“No she’s definitely angry with me for messing with Force things I shouldn’t have.”

“Father, we just need to tell him.”

The little girl, it was a little girl, Piett realized, looking at the mounds of curly brown hair, took a breath and renewed her screams. 

“Admiral…” Lord Vader shifted the child, turning her around and trying to bounce her on his knee. “This is the princess.”

Piett blinked.

“I….apologize my Lord, I thought you said….”

“You heard him,” Skywalker put in, speaking loudly over the child’s angry shrieks.

Well fabulous. There were few things Piett hadn’t dealt with on behalf of the Skywalker family. Why not add this utterly bizarre scenario?

He moved closer and took a really good look at the baby.

About one, a little older? Curly dark brown hair and huge brown eyes, currently flooded with tears, and a red scrunched face. She was wrapped in an oversize t-shirt (one of Skywalker’s?) and proclaiming her misery.

“How…?” Piett began and the baby paused, noticing him for the first time. She hiccupped, then reached both little hands out to him.

Piett’s heart did funny things.

“I was….deep in the Force, Admiral, and…. well.” His commander paused, sadness on his face. “Regretting a great deal. Wishing it could be different.”

“And you wished  _ that _ , in the  _ Force _ , over the remains of  _ Jedha _ !” Skywalker exclaimed, clearly having said this before. “Father….”

“I know, my son, we’ve been over this. We need to figure out….”

“Da.” said the baby.

The whole room was quiet now, a stunning contrast to moments before. The little girl was wiggling and squirming in his commander’s grasp and reaching….for him?

“You see?” said his commander smugly to his son. “I told you. Certain things are clearly ingrained in her. Her connection to the Lady for one. And confirmation (not that we needed it) for how she sees Piett.”   
  


Piett was staring at the child, still trying to wrap his mind around one of the most strange things this mysterious  _ kriffing _ Force had apparently done….

The baby smiled widely at him and dimples popped out. 

_ Stars _ . 

“Da!” she insisted, pushing at Lord Vader, and he jerked slightly.

“Father…?” asked Skywalker.

“She used the Force to push my hand… nine….”

“Ahem,” Piett cleared his throat and pointed at the baby.

“...holocrons,” his commander finished raising an eyebrow at his Admiral. “She wants you, Piett.”

“My Lord…. I have no experience with babies.”

_ I see you snickering Skywalker, nine hells. _

“Neither do I,” Lord Vader said, setting her carefully on the floor of his quarters. She steadied herself against his knee, then looked up at Piett and began that funny little rolling walk that babies this age had, babbling happily the whole time.

“Da, da, da, da….”

She fell against his boots, clasping them in chubby arms, and looked up with great pride in her accomplishment.

“Hello,” he said quietly, and smiled at her because he couldn’t help it. 

An utterly adorable smile broke on her face in response and she reached a hand up to him.

_ No one could resist that.  _

He bent and lifted her up, and an excited bundle squirmed to touch his face and drool on his shoulder.

_ So much for the fresh uniform… _

“Admiral, my son and I need to go down to Jedha and see about reversing this. I am hopeful that it could happen of its own accord, but…”   
  


“We don’t  _ know _ that,” the younger Jedi insisted. “Stars, Father, we don’t want her to stay like this!”

Wait.

“My Lord, are you suggesting that I….?”   
  


“More than suggesting, Piett,” said his commander, raising an eyebrow at him. “You need to take care of her. She wants you---look how happy she is.”

  
  
_ And there was no mistaking the wistfulness there and he felt for the man. _

“But, my Lord, the ship…”

“You’ll manage, Admiral, you always have with far worse circumstances.”

He tried to glare at the ex-Sith nuisance, but it was hard to do so effectively when tiny hands were patting at his chin and reaching for his cap.

“No, darling,” he said absentmindedly, pushing the little fingers down gently, “My Lord…”

“We need to work on solving this, Admiral. I would trust no one else with the princess.”

“Da da.” He looked down into huge brown eyes that he knew and loved.

“Sorry Admiral….” Skywalker said, but he couldn’t hide his grin. Piett rolled his eyes at him and the young man’s sister turned in his arms to gesture broadly.

“Ook!”

“Look or Luke?” he asked.

“Ook!”

“I think ‘Luke’,” her brother said, squinting and she grinned, drool coming down her chin.

“Ah,” said the princess, looking pleased.

“We need to go, son. Good luck, Admiral.”

Piett hoped he could feel the aggravation coming off of him in waves.

“Indeed I can, Admiral,” said his commander pointing a finger at him. “You....”

“No,” said his daughter, frowning. “No no.”

Skywalker burst out laughing. “Oh it’s _her_. Don’t mess with her Admiral, Father. Come.”

And they were gone.

Piett sighed, and he and the princess looked at eachother. 

“Supplies and requisitions it is my dear. And I need a fleet of med droids. Because I love you, but I am not working with diapers.”

A happy giggle and she leaned against his chest.

She was likely tired. It was 0330 and he was knackered. Piett walked down the corridors of the Executor and tried to ignore the utterly gobsmacked looks he was receiving. He could handle not explaining anything to the crew, but he should give Max a heads up. 

“Lady,” he said in the turbolift while the princess snuggled and played with his rank bars, “can you send a message to Veers’ pad? Ask him to see me at his earliest convenience? As he will no doubt hear rumors?”

She flashed her lights at him and the baby looked up sleepily. 

“D,” she said.

“Is that….’Lady’?” he asked her and she sighed and patted at his neck.

“D.”

The lights glowed white. “All right then, Lady, I’m going to assume she still talks to you somehow.”

He exited at the right deck and made his way to the supply officer, who rose from behind his desk, doing his utmost to keep a neutral face at seeing his Admiral holding a baby who had happily coated much of his right uniform sleeve in drool.

“Sir,” said the man, giving an admirable impression of an officer who saw this sort of thing every day. “What can I do for you?”

“Commander, I know this is strange, and we’re going to have to leave it at that. Please get out your datapad and make a list. I need to know if you have a small hover crib, baby clothes for a 12 month old, bottles, diapers, blankets, and ah…” he looked down at the princess now trying to chew on his rank bars. “Something she can teeth on?”

The corner of the man’s mouth twitched. “Yes, Admiral, I’ll get right on that, sir. Where should….?”   
  


“Send it to my quarters.”

He left the man to recover and made his way to general sickbay ( _ not _ Henley’s domain, though he had no doubt he would hear from the man soon enough. It was inevitable.) so that the princess could have a check up and he could request several droids to help with diaper duty.

More curious looks, but no one was mad enough to question the Fleet Admiral and he took the very sleepy princess away, followed by a droid, and finally reached his quarters once more. 

He was very pleased to know that the Lady had far more random things in her supplies than he thought. He handed the princess to the droid for a change and picked through the things the commander had sent up.

He would need to consult with the galleys on how to feed the baby as she only had...four teeth at the moment?

He vaguely recalled that his baby sister had needed soft foods and a bottle at this age. When they could get…..

No. He shoved that away. It still hurt too much. He found a little sleeper and took the princess from the droid, ordering it to a corner on low power. Perhaps Artoo could help him here. He could do his paperwork here so she could play….

He found a bottle and saw that the commander had thoughtfully sent up some formula, complete with instructions.

He made it up, checking the temperature on his wrist and then activated the hover crib, bringing it near the sofa. The little girl latched onto the bottle eagerly and he relaxed back onto the arm, toeing his boots off with some effort. He didn’t even care that they were piled carelessly on the floor. Much.

The little body was warm against his chest and he watched as her eyes drooped even as she drank. At last the bottle dropped from the rosebud mouth, and he carefully eased it from her to set on his side table.

He should put her down in the crib, but he was fascinated. He had never held a baby as an adult. Her round cheek was so soft and if he stroked near her mouth she opened it slightly. He smiled.

Babies could sleep with such abandon. No cares and worries to make them frown or tense. He touched the little fingers and soft hands. She grabbed his index finger firmly.

His chest was tight. He loved her desperately.  _ Stars, how could his commander have walked away…? _ No that did no one any good. He could only distantly imagine the regrets Lord Vader lived with.

The princess hiccupped and turned to snuggle into him…..

****

“Firmus.”

It was too kriffing early.

“Admiral.”

“Not….” he mumbled.

“You’re not the Admiral? Well. New job suits then I must say.”

Wait…

Piett opened his eyes to meet those of the General of the Thundering Herd, smiling down at him. Smirking really.

“Max. Why’re you here?”

“I was requested at my  _ earliest _ convenience, by the Admiral. My earliest is 0700 today, especially as I see the crazy rumors flying around the Lady are true.”

And Piett realized that he had a small warm weight on his chest and a large wet patch in the middle of his henley where the baby had happily drooled on him. She was still asleep, fistfuls of his shirt in her little hands. 

“Ah. Yes. I did want to explain that to you in person....”

He eased carefully up (and his neck was telling him all about the bad position he’d had it in) lifting the princess to lay her down in the hover cradle, before standing stiffly and moving to his small galley.

“I need tea. Caf for you?”

There was a beat and he turned to see Max with crossed arms, staring at him with a half smile on his face.

“That looks so very familiar. I remember that with Zev. Feeling hungover but so….” he broke off abruptly. Piett knew that was an ache that would never quite heal for Max.

“All right friend of mine. You look like Gundarks ran over you and I notice that our Jedi commander and his son are rather absent from the ship. Oh, and you are  _ literally _ babysitting. What is going on?”   
  


Piett got water going and pushed start on the caf machine before turning to lean tiredly against the counter.

“All right. Let’s just agree that our Jedi friends and colleagues have enormous amounts of bizarre things happen and this really isn’t the worst, there was the time after all, where…”

“Firmus.”

Piett realized the General had moved to him and was gripping his shoulders. 

“Take a breath. Also, may I respectfully recommend that Kelly take the bridge, or frankly, anyone more awake than you are at the moment?”

Well. He had a point. Piett was in a fog. And this was rather high priority….

“All right. Send that for me will you…?”

Max was already typing into his datapad, so Piett turned to make tea, inhaling the life giving spices.

It allowed him to face his friend as the General turned back once more and lifted an eyebrow.

“Baby?”

Piett sighed. He was doing that a lot. “Lord Vader did something in the Force, curse his kriffing soul, and turned his daughter into a 12 month old. He and Commander Skywalker are seeking a solution, but they don’t really know how he did it.”

Veers was frozen in the act of drinking his caf, and then his eyes darted to the floating cradle.

“That…...is the  _ princess _ ?”

“Yes.”

“And they left you….?”

“Yes.”

“What time….?”

“0300 this morning.”

“Well. Given that, it’s really remarkable you’re standing and still capable of speaking Basic.”

“Thank you, Max.”

“You look haggard, was she difficult?”

“The princess wasn’t the problem. Her relatives however….”   
  


Veers chuckled, while Piett took deep drinks of life giving tea.

Small sounds came from the cradle, and then more deliberate babbling as she talked to herself. The Lady suddenly flashed her happy yellow lights.

“Apparently,” Piett explained, “she can still somehow sense and communicate with the Lady. Lord Vader believes that certain things are still somehow present in her thought process..”

Then a tousled head poked over the edge of the cradle and the princess looked around, spotting them and giving a charming little smile when she saw Piett.

“Da-da.”

Veers turned slowly toward him, and raised both his eyebrows.

The Admiral set his mug down and walked to the princess who was raising her arms expectantly.

“Do not start, Veers.”

He lifted her up and rummaged for a diaper before handing her off to the med droid.

“So when you say she has retained certain things…”

Piett retrieved a fresh bottle and found formula, before moving to make up a bottle. She would really need some solid foods too….He should check with the galleys.

“Max...what do you want me to say? His Lordship already feels badly enough…”

“Fine, fine,” his friend put his hands up. The med droid returned with a happy baby in a fresh diaper and she studied the General from Piett’s arms, nursing her bottle seriously as she gazed at him. 

“Dat?” she said, removing the bottle and pointing at Veers. And she was so serious, and even now that little finger was intimidating….Piett chuckled.

“That, sweetheart, is Max.”

“Mac.”

“Sure.”

She returned to her bottle, but kept her eyes on the General, assessing him.

His friend grinned. “Do I come up to par, your highness?” he asked.

She removed the bottle once more to be reminded of who he was.

“Dat?”

“Max, your highness,” and he offered her a finger. She looked at it then up at Piett who nodded with a smile and she turned back to grab at the General’s finger.

“Mac.”

“That’s right, darling. Uncle Mac,” agreed the Admiral.

Piett enjoyed the unimpressed look from Veers.

“If I thought she had you wrapped around her finger  _ before… _ .”

“Veers, I dare you to look into this little face and tell her no.”

The General chuckled, setting down his mug. “Ah, Firmus. Welcome to parenting. I’ll check in with you in a few hours. I promise you will have said ‘no’ to that sweet face.”

***

In a few hours, Piett had lost track of how many times he had said the word ‘no’. And it had become even more exciting when the 1 year old had displayed Force ability to get what she wanted. He had needed to move all his little trees into his sleeping quarters and shut the door after some close calls.

Artoo had arrived and that had helped, allowing him to get paperwork done on the sofa while the baby squealed in delight at all the things Artoo was capable of.

Of course, he’d had to tell them  _ both _ ‘no’ numerous times.

Veers commed as promised and laughed in a heartless manner at the tales Piett had told. But now, he needed to go down to the galley for supplies and then he needed to report to the bridge.

“2?” the princess asked as he came back out of his sleeping area, doing up his jacket.

“2 can’t come with us right now, sweetheart.” He pocketed his commlink and the control for the hover cradle. “You have to be tired after all that. And you didn’t have much sleep.”

She frowned slightly at the word and he sighed, placing his cap on firmly. He was hoping she would nap on the bridge, but he had a bad feeling about it….

He assigned the med bot to his conference room--it was near the bridge should an….. _ emergency _ occur and it could keep an eye on her should she decide to actually nap. Then he squared his shoulders and entered the bridge atrium, the hover cradle behind him containing an excited 1 year old in her little green dress, brown curls tumbling around her head.   
  


_ Lord Vader and Skywalker had been gone for 12 hours _ . Already he was wondering how to balance all this.

He moved down the walkway toward Kelly and felt the shocked looks of his crew.

“As you were!” barked Kelly to the Pit, bless him, and turned to his commanding officer.

“Apologies sir.” His eyes were practically quivering with the effort it took not to look at the small form hovering behind the Admiral.

“Kelly,” Piett started, then pulled the Captain aside.

“I know it’s odd. Just trust me when I tell you that Lord Vader gave me this task.”

Kelly raised his eyebrows sympathetically. “Of course, sir. Ah…” His eyes darted over Piett’s shoulder and he whipped around to see that somehow she had climbed out (he didn’t like to think how) and was doing her drunken toddler walk to Kelly, pausing at his polished boot.

“Dat?” she asked, pointing upward and looking to Piett.

“Captain Kelly,” he responded and she studied the man.

“Dat?” 

“Captain Kelly, darling.”

Then he froze as he realized that such endearment had easily slipped out of his mouth on the bridge and half his crew were looking...

“Tin!” decided the princess and he bent to lift her and place her once more in the hover cradle. 

He shot the Captain a look and then moved to do his rounds as usual.

“Sir,” said Kelly when he reached weapons and he turned to see the Captain was….holding the princess who must have once again escaped the cradle.

_ Force damn it. But he daren’t turn her care over to anyone else. _

Biting his tongue on his sigh, he took her in his arms. Very well, he would do rounds with the princess.

“Thank you, Kelly, I have the bridge.”

His Captain looked for a moment as if he was going to say something, thought better of it, and saluted. 

“Aye sir!”

The princess giggled and reached for his cap.

“No dar---” he bit it off and then decided that it was already beyond strange for him to be toting a baby around the bridge on his hip, he wasn’t going to be cold to the baby, he was not that man---refused to be that man.

_ Careful Piett, your own insecurities are showing. _

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he told her, taking the cap from her gently and replacing it.

“Sir!” called the comms officer. He moved to the station, bouncing her highness slightly and she laughed. 

It was a lovely laugh. He could tell half of the Pit were charmed. 

“What is it Lieutenant?”

“Lord Vader for you, sir. Would you like it in your conference room?”

“Please,” Piett answered, trying not to look overly eager.

The moment the doors hissed closed behind him, he put the princess down and called to the Lady.

“Put him through, please.”

Lord Vader’s image appeared over the conference table.

The baby squealed. 

“My Lord, how goes the ah...project?”

“We believe we might be getting closer to some definitive wisdom on the matter, Admiral. But we need more time. How is Leia?”

“Ah,” Piett looked around and realized that she had found the red and green plants in their bronze pots and had happily plunged her arms in to the elbows. She pulled out fistfuls of dirt as he watched.

“One moment, my Lord, darling, no…..!”

And she flung it into the air in a shower of happiness.

Piett brushed dirt off himself as he rushed to her and lifted her away from the pots.

The princess laughed happil,y and  _ wiped her hands down his uniform. _

“My Lord,” he turned back to his commander, and damn the man he was clearly trying to hide a smile.

“I would love to hear if you have a time frame or.....it doesn't’ taste good sweetheart, trust me.” He pulled a muddy fist from her mouth.

“I would like to give you one, Piett, but…”

“Da-da,” declared the princess, placing her muddy little hands on either side of Piett’s face and wasn’t  _ that _ a difficult moment.

He could feel his commander’s pause, could see the longing out of the corner of his eye. And at the same time that little face was smiling into his, confident of who he was to her. 

“Hello darling,” he said softly, and then gently moved her hands to look once more at his commander who made a good effort to wipe the longing off of his face and grin at the Admiral. 

“Might need to check the mirror before returning to duty, Piett…”

“Sir…” he swallowed what he wanted to say as a baby was present. “I will need to change the whole uniform now.”

“Don’t let me stop you, Admiral. I’ll comm when I know more.”

And he was out.

Piett handed the baby to the med droid, commed the bridge to have Commander Yarin take temporary duty and then paused. His uniform already needed to go in the recycle unit. Might as well give the princess her lunch. 

The droid had given her a clean diaper and Piett managed to wrestle her into a fresh dress ( _ where _ had the commander found these things?) pink this time, and sat her on the floor before opening the containers the galley had given him.

“Are you hungry my lovely?” he asked her. “Do you want to try this?”

The princess peered suspiciously at it.

“Dat?”

“Umm,” he wasn’t sure. He trusted the head chef, but he was barely listening when they told him what they had mashed for the baby, too busy making sure she wasn’t going to summon butcher knives with her power as she had been eyeing the  _ shiny _ items very closely indeed.

“Let’s find out shall we?” he asked, dipping in the spoon and holding it out. She shook her head, curls flying.

“All right.” He opened the next one and smelled it. It smelled like fruit to him.

“What about this?”

Something wet hit the side of his face and he realized he had committed the rookie error of leaving the other food container open with the spoon in it.

Wild giggling accompanied this.

“Thank you for that,” he told her dryly which seemed to send her into more fits. He rose and found a towel in the fresher, and came out to find that the princess had discovered the fruit on her own and had apparently liked it so well, she wanted to wear it all over her face.

“Your highness,” he sighed. He sat down on the floor and lifted her into his lap, then proceeded to open the next container. He dipped a finger in and tasted it. Mashed potato. Very nice.

She was watching him closely and picked up the spoon to offer him.

“Thank you my dear, but that is for you.”

“Da.”

He put the spoon in the potatos held it to her. She took a tidy bite.

“So good darling, well done.”

She snatched the spoon from the fruit and dipped it in the potatoes before offering it to him.

“Da-da.”

“Ah, well, your highness, I shall have lunch….”

_ Sometime _ his brain put in. 

She was staring at him intently and frowned, thrusting the spoon at his face.

“Da-da.”

“Darling….”

A wounded look and he  _ couldn’t… _ .

He allowed the bite and tried not to think about it. The potatoes were good.

“Well.” The doors hissed shut and he closed his eyes at the familiar voice, dripping with satisfaction.

“Is it your lunchtime or hers?”   
  


“So witty, General, you should consider a career change.”

Max was grinning widely. 

The princess placed her fruit covered hand on his face in pleasure, and pointed with her other. 

“Mac!”

“Yes, dear, Uncle Mac is here. Since he is…” a thought occurred and Veers squinted at him suspiciously. 

“He is going to be a very helpful Uncle Mac and get me a fresh uniform jacket from my quarters.”

Veers eyed his appearance. “At this rate, Firmus, I’ll get you two.”

“Thank you, General.”

When his friend returned, Piett handed him the now clean princess in her third outfit of the day (blue) and shrugged out of his poor jacket to go and dump it on the conference table and swiftly put on a clean one. 

At last she seemed sleepy, leaning against the General’s broad chest, and Piett was given the rare gift of seeing what Max would have looked like as a father himself as he patted the little back and bounced gently with practiced confidence.

“Thanks, Veers,” he said smiling, and the princess lifted her head at his voice, reaching a hand to him.

“Da.”

“You are being summoned,” his friend said with a grin, and Piett wondered at himself that he didn’t mind.

He took the little body and held her to his shoulder, where she immediately dropped her head and stroked his sleeve to soothe herself.

Piett was hit with the realization that this was likely to be the only time in his life he would experience this---the closest he would ever come to understanding fatherhood in just a tiny way.

He raised his eyes to Veers who was looking at him with remarkable understanding. 

“Rather special isn’t it?” he said, and the Admiral heard the old ache in his friend’s voice.

“Yes,” he replied quietly. 

The General nodded and straightened. “Where’s her cradle?” 

“The bridge. Where I should be. It’s noise cancelling once it’s shut.”

“I”ll get it,” his friend said and moments later Piett was headed back to the bridge with a sleeping (thank the  _ Force _ !) princess, tucked safely in the cradle hovering behind him. 

He managed to complete four hours (she was tired) before there were noises and the cover hissed back to reveal a baby who was refreshed and ready to get  _ down _ . 

Piett lifted her out (if only four hours were enough for him to feel this ready for life) and set her on the deck where she slid a bit in the little white socks.

“Do you want up, sweetheart?” he asked and she shook her head violently, taking another staggery step toward the central walkway. (his princess was very independent.)

“All right, here,” and he extended his hand. She grasped his index finger tightly and the Admiral and the baby made their slow way down the walkway, the princess smiling delightedly at all the faces she was passing, and Piett wondered if he would ever restore some semblance of decorum and order to his bridge again---far too many soppy expressions were present.

At the end of the walkway, near the viewport, she raised her arms to him and he lifted her to look out at the stars. He could just see the ravaged form of Jedha below them.

“Dat?” the princess asked, gesturing out the viewport.

“Space, my dear,” he replied.

She shook her head and pointed more vehemently. “ _ Dat _ ?”

“Hmm. Stars?”

“Tar.” She nodded, happy. 

He managed to finish his shift, while fielding regular fleet concerns _and_ peppered questions of ‘dat’ from the princess.

He made it back to his quarters with her to discover that the galley had been most thoughtful and sent up more food for the princess and….well, that was kind. Dinner for him as well. 

He took his jacket off this time, and fed her before having the med droid give her a bath in the galley in a small storage crate as they couldn’t find anything else. 

She splashed happily while he took off his boots and tried to look over a few of his reports.

She was drowsing on his chest with a bottle when his commlink pinged and he flicked it on.

“Piett.”

“Admiral,” Lord Vader’s voice rumbled. “We think we have the solution. Are you in a position where ah, she is able to return to herself?”

And a spear of  _ something _ shot through Piett’s heart as he looked down at the sleepy baby, once more stroking his shirt as she soothed herself. 

“I…..can do that in a few minutes, my Lord. She is almost asleep, it may perhaps be easier if she is.”

A pause.

“I…..cannot tell you, Piett, how much I wish to be in your position right now.”

A raw and honest admission, and he ached for all of them.

“Yes, sir,” he said softly. “I….am sorry.”

A sigh sounded. “Not your fault, Admiral. And thank you for everything you have done. Five minutes.”

And the connection finished.

The princess was asleep and he rose carefully, holding her closely, taking in the little baby breaths near his neck and the soft curls brushing his face. 

He had had the foresight to get some of her highness’s clothing in hopes of this event, and he found some things to lay out for her in his room.

Then, very carefully, he laid the sleeping baby on his bed, brushing a finger over her cheek, before leaving the room and letting the door hiss behind him. 

He busied himself with tidying up the baby things, trying not to focus on why his throat felt funny and his chest rather tight

He held the small blue romper she had worn for a moment when a soft sound came behind him---someone had cleared their throat quietly.

He turned to see his princess, looking herself again, though slightly puzzled.

They regarded each other for a moment. 

“Hello, my dear,” he managed at last. “What do you remember?”

“I think….I think Father did something...but I don’t….how long have I…?”

He blew out a light breath. “Perhaps you should sit down?”

They sat on the sofa and she was taking in the unaccustomed items in his quarters, and then her eyes rested on the little blue romper still in his hand. 

“Your Father isn’t quite sure how it happened,” said Piett, looking down at it. “But somehow, the Force made you….”

“An infant,” she said for him.

“Quite so. He and your brother went down to Jedha for the solution. Which they just found. So, happily, this situation was resolved in under 24 hours.”

“But they left you quite literally holding the baby,” she said, a small smile on her face as he looked at her. She sobered as she met his eyes.

“I hope it wasn’t too terrible, Admiral dear…”   
  


“Not at all. No, I just….I have never…..what do you recall?” he stumbled.

“Not much,” she responded, raising a hand to his jaw. “Didn’t have time to shave I see.”

“Well….”

“Admiral.”

She smiled into his eyes. “I can’t recall much. I do have very strong impressions, though---of being secure, and happy, and  _ loved _ .”

He smiled back. “You are.”

Her arms went around him.

"I know."


	86. The Doctor's Choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Henley has to do emergency triage on two of our favorite people. He opens up to Luke, because.....everyone opens up to Luke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realized that I have not really had any Luke--Henley interaction.   
> This was inspired (though they don't know it) by SaltyBlueChurro in one of their amusing comments. One line had Henley with a board in sickbay for 'days without injury'. It was fun. But in there they had Henley write 'Skywalker [crossed that out] Luke' with a clear progression in the Doctor's head of referring to him by his last name and then (because it's Luke) referring to him as 'Luke'. And that got me thinking 'oooh, how did Henley come to think of him as 'Luke' in his head?'
> 
> So, out of one line of a comment, was born a suuuuper angsty one shot. However, I really appreciated the time for Luke and Henley to interact very seriously.
> 
> Also, this is yet another of the thousands of reasons, that I appreciate you readers and your comments---inspiration happens!!! :) So thanks and I hope you enjoy.

The hapless Ensign grunted as Veers threw himself at the younger officer. They had been told that there was frequent tectonic movement on this planet, but they had understood that it was on the other continent more consistently.

Apparently, they got the freak incident when it happened on this continent as well.

With a huge rumble, the building they had been in front of came down in a mushroom cloud of dust and smoke and screams.

Veers felt the impact of numerous stinging stones and debris as he covered his head and shielded the younger man as well. 

It was as though thousands of bantha were trampling across the ground and it felt like it went on forever even though somewhere, his rational mind told him it wasn’t more than a minute.

He raised his head at last, ears ringing and did his best to get the dust off of his face. He staggered to his feet, still clutching his datapad and immediately typed at it to see if it was able to scan.

By some miracle, it was, and he turned to the pile of rubble behind him that had once been a five story building.

He had to get there.

Because somewhere in there was Lord Vader and the Admiral. 

In the distance sirens sounded, but this was a more primitive planet, with fewer settlements. He needed to get to his people and get back up to the Lady for medical treatment.

There. The scanner was flashing a red light with life signatures at him. Emergency personnel were approaching and he directed them to the spot. Frantic digging revealed some badly injured women.    
  


Veers moved carefully over the wreckage and the Ensign followed suit with his own datapad.

It took him ten minutes and finding eight more people that weren’t his, when he came upon them. 

He knew immediately the only reason they lived was due to Lord Vader’s Force abilities. Veers took one look and whipped around to the Ensign.

“Get to the shuttle. Power it up and land as close to this rubble as possible. Comm the Lady on your way and tell Henley to have intensive emergency teams in the landing bay. Go now.”

The boy obeyed immediately and Veers knelt at Lord Vader’s shoulder. His body was trembling madly from strain, arms braced on the debris below him, keeping him as a shield above his Admiral. Veers and others immediately began removing the beams and debris from his back to relieve some of his pressure. 

“I need a laser cutter now!” he snapped. 

“Sir, it’s being used there to….”

“Is it being used to actively save the life of a survivor right now?”

“No General, just clearing some debris to search…”

  
  
“Then Get. It. Hear.” he growled and the man obeyed.

He laid a careful hand on his commander’s shoulder.

“Almost there, my Lord. What can I do?”

“Keep…..him…...alive,” his Lordship ground out and Veers reached for Piett’s pulse. At his touch, his friend’s eyes opened, startling him.

“Firmus...stay still.”   
  


“Can’t…. Move...if I….tried,” Piett panted, and coughed slightly, face scrunching in agony at that.

“Don’t talk,” Veers said gently, trying to avoid looking at the metal beam impaling both men. The angle looked as though it might have hit Piett’s liver and  _ Force damn it.  _ The clock was already ticking and it was going to speed up when they removed the beam. 

It was piercing his Lordship lower, which likely meant intestinal trauma. Veers had seen enough battlefield wounds to be reasonably sure, but desperately hoped he was wrong. 

The man came huffing back with the laser cutting team and Veers did his best to shield Piett from the sparks as the beam was cut. Two men were holding his commander at this point and eased him back as Veers moved to Piett’s side and got a hand under his back to feel where the rod came out and how much there was. 

_ Kriffing hell. _

It was jammed into the debris. They were going to have to lift him off.

The med team had arrived and they came to join him in assessing the situation. 

“Sir,” said the woman, “we don’t have the facilities close enough to save him.”

He had expected this, but it was still hard to hear it. He nodded.

“We’re going to the Lady. Be ready to do what you can to stop the bleeding. Do you have painkillers?”

She pulled out one hypospray. “I’m sorry I can’t do more. We’re having to triage our supplies.”   
  


She leaned in to press it to the Admiral’s neck and Piett looked up at her.

“Thank...you.”

He heard their shuttle and looked at the crew around him. 

“On three.”

The woman readied the field bandages.

“One, two, three!”

And they lifted Piett who gave a sharp cry that hurt Veers’ heart, and the Admiral went limp in their arms.

After that, it was a blurred scramble.

_ Getting Lord Vader and Piett to the shuttle. _

_ Lifting off after strapping them into the crash webbing… _

_ The Ensign's panicked updates to Henley as they pushed the lamda far beyond her limits to get to the Lady in orbit…… _

_ Veers trying to keep both of his friends from bleeding out….. _

_ The horrifying moment, when Piett stopped breathing….. _

_ Straddling his friend’s inert body doing CPR as the shuttle lowered to the Lady’s biggest bay. He didn’t stop pumping the Admiral’s chest as the medical personnel thundered in and in seconds had Piett intubated, and a kind but firm hand moved him away as the medic took over chest compressions while the team behind him whisked Lord Vader out of the shuttle…. _

_ Following in a daze when they at last got Piett’s heart going again, and waiting to the side in the emergency room as Henley flitted between the two patients…. _

_ Answering questions about the injuries and how much time had passed…. _

_ Henley lifting pained eyes to his…. _

_ “I have to choose General, and one has more of a chance than the other…..” _

  
  


*****

Luke strained to get his X-Wing to the Lady in record time. He could feel the terror of the techs and bay workers as he screamed into the bay, wrenching the controls with reaction time that only the Force could give him, and the fighter whipped around inches from the far wall to curve and drop into a landing.

Artoo squawked indignantly behind him, but Luke couldn’t even bring himself to care about that as he flung back the canopy and launched himself out of his cockpit in a display of acrobatic prowess that had the crewman astonished.

He tossed his helmet at one, and stripped off his flight suit in two seconds before sprinting for the corridors and Henley’s sickbay.

He skidded to a stop, breathing hard, just outside the doors and then they hissed open and he entered, bracing himself. 

The main bay was empty and Luke moved toward the intensive care rooms deeper in sickbay.

The lights were dimmer here, and he paused as Henley raised his utterly wrecked countenance to the young Jedi.

_ Force please _ , Luke thought, reaching for his Father’s presence.

Henley adjusted something and came to him.

“He’s going to make it. It seems that it is virtually impossible to kill Anakin Skywalker, though it’s not for lack of trying.”

Luke moved to his Father’s side, unpleasantly reminded of those first days after the Battle of Endor where his Father had barely clung to life. He was wearing an oxygen mask once more and was hooked up to numerous monitoring equipment and tubes.

“Touch and go,” Henley told him quietly. “He’ll need bacta when he’s stronger.”

Luke took his Father’s hand and sat beside him. “And…..the Admiral?”

Henley rubbed a hand down the side of his scruffy jaw before glancing at the other bed in the room.

“I’ll be honest, Commander. He wouldn’t have made it if your sister hadn’t come when she did.”

He swayed slightly.

“Sit, Doctor,” Luke said compassionately. “Is there anything crucial you need to do at the moment?”

“No,” Henley sighed and dropped into the chair on the other side of his Father. He bent over and put his head in his hands and Luke felt for him. Sensed his exhaustion and emotional upheaval. He was aware of the jokes about the Doctor not having a heart and knew that he could be….abrasive.

But Luke had insight with the use of the Force that others didn't. And Henley was badly shaken by what he had had to do this day.

“Doctor…” Luke began. “You did what you had to do. You’re trained for triage…”

“Force  _ damn _ it, Skywalker I know!” he hissed, sitting up. “I know I did the right thing. Doesn’t mean I don’t hate it. That I won’t forever see Veers’ eyes in my nightmares when I told him the Admiral wasn’t going to make it.”

Luke bit his lip and glanced over Henley’s shoulder. His sister was in a more comfortable chair than his, her upper half draped next to Piett, her right arm across his chest, protective even in her exhausted sleep. He could feel how much her exertions in the Force had taken out of her.

“Should we put her in a bed?” he asked Henley.

“I’ll let her decide that,” the Doctor said dully. “She snarled like a wolf when I suggested she get some rest. That was five hours ago. Admittedly, the Admiral’s vital stats seem most stable when she’s next to him. If that’s what it takes, I’m not interfering. He’s still riding the edge, though I’m willing to upgrade his status if he stays stable for the next three hours.”

Luke regarded the man and summoned a water bottle from the other room to land in his lap. The Doctor jerked slightly.

“Well. Useful powers really. I would hire your sister permanently if I could, given the rate these men get themselves injured looking out for each other.”

He drank half the water and leaned back at last, stretching his legs before him.

“Thank you,” Luke said quietly. “No one else could have done it.”

Henley snorted. “Damn straight.” Then he sobered. “Credit where it’s due, Commander. Veers kept them both alive to get from the surface to the Lady. Some poor green Ensign was piloting, but the kid had spine. Kept me updated until they landed.”

_ General. What suffering you must have had. _

“Where is....?”

_ He had expected Veers to be keeping vigil as well.  _

Henley sighed. “Believe it or not, Skywalker, Solo managed to haul him away for food and rest, once he knew that both your Father and Piett were going to make it. Your sister…..she’s so very remarkable. Didn’t panic once during her fight. Didn’t even give me the betrayed look that Veers did. She just let him hold onto the Admiral on one side and she worked on him with those powers you have. Repaired most of it which gave me time to get to him to finish.”

Luke looked down at his Father and sensed peaceful sleep. He gripped the hand tighter and understood Leia. 

“And how are  _ you _ , Doctor?” he asked knowingly. He could sense the man’s pain.

Henley barked a hollow laugh.

“I made the decision today, Commander, to allow the Fleet Admiral to die because I had more of a chance to save your Father. I will try to live with that decision.”

“Sir….” Luke began. “Surely you’ve had to make such decisions before.”

Henley leaned forward again, resting his elbows on his knees and glancing over at the Admiral’s still form.

“Yes, Commander. Many times.” he stopped and took another sip of water. “But this….well. I don’t know why I’m telling you this.” He looked over at Luke with red rimmed eyes.

Luke gave him a small smile. “Because I want to hear it? Because, maybe you need to say it?”

Henley snorted slightly. “Yeah, maybe. At least to you for some reason. Look…..he’s my Admiral too. I’ve fought for his life several times before and won. And today…..today I chose not to. I  _ chose _ it.” 

He sat back again and ran a hand through his salt and pepper hair. “You and I know that Veers is his brother in all but blood. He’s already lost his family. And I looked him in the eye and told him the rest of it was dying, and I wasn’t going to try and stop it. Stabbing him would have been kinder.”

Luke closed his eyes and pondered what he might feel if someone told him Leia wasn’t going to live. That they weren’t going to fight for her life. Unthinkable.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “That must have been awful for you.”

“For me?” Henley said incredulously.

“Well yes. Doctor….” Luke considered the man across from him, the man drooping in profound exhaustion from his fight, and decided to tell him what he thought.

“This is your command. These men, my father, the Admiral, they make the same sorts of decisions you do. They do it from the bridge of a ship or the cockpit of a fighter or, even on the ground, but they do the same thing. I have personally witnessed it. They feel the same agony you do at having to choose who to save and who to let die. You just do it from here.”

“I think,” Luke continued carefully, “that they will understand.”   
  


Henley speared him with a look.

“Veers will not.”   
  


_ Dangerous waters there….. _

“I had thought his opinion wasn’t all that….”

Henley suddenly dropped his mask and revealed the man behind the demeanor. And he looked strained, and exhausted and  _ sad _ .

“The General and I have been through much. And of course he's an abrasive son of a Hutt, but, Force damn it, I consider him at least an ally if not a friend. I lost that today when I committed the highest level of betrayal possible in Veers’ book.”

Luke pondered what to say, and rose to come and put a hand on the Doctor’s shoulder. 

“The General has had to do the same thing---choose lives. I think that perhaps you need to give him a chance. Right now, with emotions so strong and raw, is not the time.”   
  


Henley remained staring at the deck. “The thing is, Commander Skywalker, my worst nightmare came true today. I had to do triage between two of our commanding officers.”

“Are you telling me that you went against your training?” Luke asked, moving to draw his chair over, so he could sit closer to the Doctor. He didn’t want to see the man break--Henley didn’t  _ break, _ and Luke would help him not to.

“Of course not!” the Doctor stated indignantly.

“If you had tried to save them both, what would have happened?” Luke asked, knowing the answer, but wanting Henley to say it.

“They both would have died,” Henley responded hoarsely.

“And if...if you had chosen to work on the Admiral instead of delegating to the team, what would have happened?”

“I….Skywalker.” He sighed. “We would have lost your Father. The Admiral would have had a 30 percent chance.”

Luke nodded. “All variables you know right off the top of your head. And you acted accordingly.”

“Quite. And now we know what I would do in this situation. And we all have to live with that.”

“Well first,” Luke responded gently, “we all get to  _ live _ with that, thank the Force. Second, yes, we see what you did in  _ this _ situation. It doesn’t mean this is a recipe for every other time. They will all be different. Is it possible, had the wounds been different, that you would have chosen the Admiral?”

“Yes,” said Henley, glancing over at his sister and Piett once more. 

“Then sir, you made the hard call. You made the right call. It’s why you have this job. Why my Father trusts you and has done for years.”

Henley paused and Luke could feel the conflict in the man. “Look Skywalker---my logical self agrees with everything you’re saying. It’s my….damn  _ heart _ that is struggling. And if you tell anyone about this conversation, Jedi or no, I’ll have to kill you.”

Luke smiled slightly. “Understood, Doctor. Though I thought you had to take some sort of oath about ‘do no….?”

“Kill you,” reiterated the Doctor pointing a finger at him. 

“All right.” But Luke sensed a presence in the outer room. One he knew…..

He opened his mouth, but the Doctor was already speaking.

“I know he’s your Father, Skywalker and he is trying to atone for his actions as Vader. I appreciate that. Damn, it takes spine and enormous strength to do what he is doing. But the fact remains, that you, and maybe your sister, would be among the few who mourned him if he were to die.”

He paused as if assessing Luke’s reaction, but he couldn’t argue. And he could feel the man in the other room listening as well.

“The Admiral on the other hand….this entire ship would miss him. Perhaps  _ literally _ the ship if what I have observed is true. The fleet. And your sister, Veers, you….He’s a good man, Skywalker---one of the best, both before Endor and now. A part of me for one second  _ did _ consider saving him or trying to--over your father.”

Luke stared at him, never having heard the Doctor speak like this before.

“But that would have been me elevating my personal judgment over my professional one. And….I couldn’t, even for him.”

He had his hands clasped together tightly, and he looked up at Luke, meeting his eyes intensely. 

“Today I hated my job, Commander.”

Luke nodded. “We do what we must. I still hate that millions died on the Death Star--both of them. But I wouldn’t change my actions.”

Henley gazed at him. “Thank you, Commander.” He rose stiffly, and Luke heard the man in the other room leave quietly. He wondered what he was thinking. Henley moved to check Piett’s readings and Luke followed. He hadn’t seen Piett quite so still in a long time and to his eyes, the Admiral looked terrible, but Henley was making a pleased noise.

“He’s stable. I can probably extubate soon, while he’s still under.”

Luke reached for his sister in the Force, very carefully. She was sleeping an exhausted sleep. He sent healing energy into her muscles and felt her relax further, tucking her head into Piett’s shoulder. 

He and Henley exchanged a look and the Doctor gave him a small smile.

****

Luke looked around the private recovery room (converted from quarters so it had sofas and chairs and a small galley) with pleased eyes. His Father was having a strenuous and amusing argument with the Doctor about using the Force to walk around, while Han grinned at Henley's expletives, leaning over the back of a chair with a mug of caf and listening unashamedly.

His sister had perched herself shoulder to shoulder next to her Admiral, who was allowed to sit up today, and looked so much better with more color. He was wearing his Imperial Navy sweatshirt which Veers had brought without being prompted, and the General himself was sitting calmly in a chair on the other side of Piett.

Luke watched his cool grey gaze and Veers was doing a very good impression of his ‘Iron’ persona, but Luke could sense his profound relief every time his eyes rested on the form of his friend.

Henley, having won the argument and clearly feeling flush with victory, moved to his other patient, but Piett was not yet feeling up to challenging the Doctor, content to lean against Luke’s sister and request his tea. 

“Fine,” Henley said, rolling his eyes. “Don’t think I’m fooled by this, Admiral. I give it another 24 hours before you’re being just as difficult as Lord Vader.”

  
  
“I am not difficult,” said his Father, frustrated and impatient.

_ You are actually, Luke thought at him. _

_ Who do you think you’re kidding? asked his sister in the Force at the same time.  _

_ You are both very disrespectful to your Father. _

_ I believe you were the one just finishing that display by calling Henley an oversolicitous mother Gungan. Hypocrite much, Father? His sister returned. _

His Father huffed aloud and Veers angled a look his way with knowing eyes. He and Piett were starting to pick up on when a silent conversation might be happening between the Skywalkers. The General rose and began heating water for his friend while Henley, satisfied that he had won the field for the moment, poured himself a caf.

“Doctor,” said the General quietly, and Luke felt Henley’s adrenaline spike as he turned to Veers.

“General,” he acknowledged neutrally.

Luke knew he shouldn’t be eavesdropping, but he was unabashedly curious to know what the General had made of the conversation he had overheard days before.

“I have been meaning to say,” Veers began, and Luke felt Henley brace himself. “Thank you for doing your job well in every way.”

Happily Henley was not in mid sip, and so avoided spitting out his caf. He reigned himself in with effort, his face showing the war he was waging in his response. His personality won.

“Naturally.”

Veers smiled grimly. “If, Force forbid, we find ourselves in a situation where you must choose between the Admiral and myself, however, I am ordering you to pick him, every time.”

Henley raised both eyebrows at him. “First, Veers, you can’t give me orders. Second, I’m reasonably certain he would say the same to me about you.”

“Has he, though?” the General asked, stirring Piett’s spices into the mug.

“Well, not in so many words…”

“Then I believe my wishes should hold more weight.”

“ _ Stars _ , General, can we have a little more optimism? I don’t want a situation to arise like that. You are  _ both _ valuable to us.  _ Force _ , people tell me I’m the pessimist,” he grumbled.

But Luke could feel the Doctor’s affection for his officers under that crusty tone. He was pretty sure, when Veers clapped Henley on the shoulder and moved to deliver Piett’s tea, that he felt it too.


	87. Stubborness Support Group II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Venka, Ellery and Kelly meet up for their routine meeting to discuss how their commanding officers are doing, and more importantly to help each other cope with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This prompt is for guepard54 who noted that it had been awhile since we'd seen Venka featured. So true! So then I thought, it's also a needed time for a breather between all my angsty fics. ;) 
> 
> This takes place shortly after the previous story- The Doctor's Choice.
> 
> Thanks guepard54 and I hope you enjoy!!

Kelly looked around the location with pleasure as he entered with Ellery. It was big, as all things on Coruscant were, yet managed to still feel warm and intimate as well. It had three levels and the true joy, in Kelly’s book at least, was the fact that there were three fireplaces--one on each level. 

And they were real fireplaces, not artificial imitations.

_ How _ had Venka found this place? One could spend several lifetimes on Coruscant and never even begin to know all that it held. 

Ellery spotted the Vice-Admiral first and Kelly was deeply pleased to see that Venka had saved them a table near the second floor fireplace. 

A server droid came zipping up for their orders, and really, given the ambiance of the location, beer seemed necessary. 

“This place is incredible, sir,” Kelly told Venka, stretching his boots toward the fire appreciatively.

“I found it about three months ago,” Venka informed them, undoing the latch on his duty jacket and leaning back into the comfortable chair. “I’d had a rather….stressful meeting with Senate leadership…”

“So Fey’lya then,” interrupted Ellery, knowingly and taking his pint from the returned server droid. 

“Among others,” sighed Venka. “Anyway, I needed to cool off and was just….walking, you know how you do when you’re just thinking or angry, not really paying attention to where I was going. I bumped into this older man, and I started to apologize, when he stopped me.”

Venka took an appreciative sip of his beer and continued. “‘Son,’ he said, and it’s been a while since I’ve been called  _ that _ ,” Venka grinned. “ ‘Son, you clearly need a beer. I know just the place for you.’ And he led me here and bought me a pint. We talked for two hours.”

Ellery chuckled. “Who was he?”

“Apparently, he’s lived here his whole life. He’s seen it all politically. He’s a garbage skiff pilot and has been for 40 years. The stories this man has!!”

“Wait,” said Kelly, setting his glass on the table, “You still meet up?”

Venka laughed. “We do indeed. Once a month if it works out. Amazing the things he’s seen or what he hears piloting the garbage collectors. Also what you can apparently learn about beings from their garbage as well.”

“Sir,” commented Ellery, “may I just say that my respect for you has gone up a few more notches?”

The vice-Admiral raised his eyebrows at him. “Oh yes? Because I socialize with a garbage man?”

“Yes, actually. No airs or class snobbery from you, sir. A being’s a being to you.”

“Well, thank you Ellery,” Venka responded, clearly pleased. “I did have a very good example you know.”

Kelly smiled. “Yes, sir, the best.”

“Speaking of him….” Venka continued, motioning to Kelly, “How is he doing, Captain?”

Kelly stared into his glass, looking for the meaning to life, apparently. 

“Well. It’s been a bit of a week, as you can imagine, sir.”

_ The initial report of the earthquake planetside. _

_ Veers comming the bridge, telling him to bring the Lady as close to atmosphere as was safe… _

_ Waiting to hear from Henley whether his Admiral lived or not. _

_ The hours where it felt like everyone on the Lady was holding their breath, wondering if Lord Vader and his Admiral would pull through…. _

“That’s one way of putting it indeed,” Ellery agreed.

Venka looked at both of them sympathetically. 

“I saw the Admiral right before I came down here,” said Kelly. “He looks well though he’s moving pretty slowly at the moment.”   
  


“He’s on his feet then,” said Venka in relief. 

“Yes sir,” the Captain said, “though the reason I saw him was because Henley ordered him,  _ ordered _ sir, to have a thorough scan and check up planetside. We were in the same hangar bay.”

“Ordered?” Venka whispered in respect. Henley certainly was authoritarian, but even he used medical override sparingly for the most Senior officers.

“Yes sir. You hadn’t come in yet, Ellery, so you missed the very polite and very... _ forceful _ discussion the Admiral and the doctor had.”

“Well don’t let anything stop you telling us,” said Venka, fascinated.

Kelly smiled slightly. “I have to say it encouraged me like nothing else could that the Admiral will be alright. They had clearly already discussed this, but the Admiral was making a last stand, even though he had to have known he would lose.”   
  


“Kelly,” said Venka kindly, “Why do we have these little meetings?”

“I know, I know,” he returned sighing, “precisely  _ because _ the Admiral is the very  _ embodiment _ of the word stubborn. But this was still one of the more impressive stands I’ve seen him take. Not only was he contending with Henley in full CMO mode, but the princess was accompanying him and was clearly on Henley’s side.”

“That is an impressive force for our Admiral to go against,” Ellery admitted. 

“Henley pointed out that Lord Vader was going to Kamino for a similar check up. The Admiral pointed out that Lord Vader had not been  _ ordered _ to do so. How did he put it? Oh, yes. ‘I do not recall you feeling the same need to burden Lord Vader with your demands, Doctor.’”

Venka whistled softly. “He really, really hates Coruscant.”

“And fussing,” added Ellery.

“Funny you should say that,” Kelly continued, sipping his beer and sliding a finger down the condensation on his glass, “the Admiral used that term too.”

The Vice-Admiral laughed. “He knows Henley hates it when he calls it that. What was the context this time?”

“ ‘Doctor, I have been in your very excellent care the past week, surely now you have many better things to do than fuss over the location of my check up.’ “

“I like how he attempted to flatter Henley at the same time,” chuckled Ellery.

“The Doctor told him that this facility on Coruscant has the most state of the art, up to date equipment and until Piett got some for the Executor, he wanted the Admiral to get his check there.”

Venka winced. A sideswipe at the Lady was never going to go over well when in an argument with Piett. 

Kelly nodded at the look on Venka’s face. “Oh yes. It was very amusing to watch the Admiral suddenly become his most Imperial self.”

All the men nodded at that. The Admiral was a model of calm patience much of the time. But all of them had witnessed his true wrath at one time or another. When the Admiral straightened his spine into battle mode, it was like watching the tides drawing themselves out in preparation for the tsunami to come. 

“So he was in the full stance, eyebrow raised and everything, and even her highness looked a little worried. ‘I had thought your care was the very best, Doctor. Are you implying it’s  _ not _ ?’ he said. I think this was about the point you joined us, Ellery, is that right?”

“Indeed, sir,” said the Sergeant Major, “just in time to witness the Doctor deliver one of the best kill shots I’ve ever heard from him.”

Kelly exchanged grins with him. 

“Don’t keep me in suspense!” exclaimed Venka. “I have to admit, there are definitely days that I miss being in the fleet.”

“Henley looks right back at him, cool as you please and says, ‘My care  _ is _ the best. My equipment is not. And my Admiral, the one who nearly died five days ago, is going to get only the best of everything because he deserves no less. Now sir, get in the damn shuttle. Please.’"

Venka choked madly on his beer, having made the rookie mistake of taking a drink  _ during _ the telling of one of these tales.

“ _ Force _ ,” he managed at last, wheezing, as Kelly thumped his back. “That is amazing. What happened?”

“Completely took the wind out of the Admiral’s sails, sir. I think Henley might have discovered how to weaponize the fact that he  _ does _ care. But our officers can’t call him on it because he is technically ordering or insulting them at the same time. It’s quite brilliant really,” responded Ellery.

Kelly felt a little disturbed by the thought of Henley having new weapons at his disposal. 

“So,” the Captain continued, picking up the story, “the Admiral just stared at him for a moment and the princess was smiling like mad and I was trying not to look at anyone…..

“And then Commander Skywalker came striding in, happy as a Danubian clam,” said Ellery, “and informed the group that he was piloting and were they all ready to go?”

“And the Admiral was thoroughly defeated,” said Kelly, smiling at the memory. “Because he had to contend with the fact that Henley had insinuated he cared about him, the princess was holding his arm in that way she has, and a Jedi knight with a smile only Darth Vader can say no to, was telling him he would pilot.”

Venka was smiling widely at this, and all three men clicked their glasses together. 

“How is the rest of the ship dealing with the fallout?” Venka asked, signalling a server droid for another beer.

“Now that they know our commanders are both well on the mend, I must say the mood on the Lady feels quite jubilant,” Kelly said.

“And how is the General?” asked Venka with a keen look at the Sergeant.

“He attempted to hide the fact that he couldn’t sleep those first two days after the earthquake,” responded Ellery seriously. “ _ Someone _ may have contacted the princess to have her  _ randomly _ drop by his office and work her magic.”

Venka grinned at him. “Well done, Sergeant Major. Did it work?”

“She informed him (so I hear from the medic present) that she needed to rest herself and would he mind staying with the Admiral? And of course, Veers wouldn’t refuse that. My medic friend said he was asleep in the chair by Piett for at least 6 hours. It got better after that.”

Kelly and Ellery also ordered a second round. 

Kelly felt more relaxed than he had in a month. The Lady was overhead, serenely orbiting the planet, his Admiral was on the mend and under the  _ best _ care, and this beer was terrific. 

Venka smiled knowingly at him. “I wish I’d been there to hear Henley deliver that coup de grace,” he commented, shaking his head. 

Ellery nodded. “There’s almost no better entertainment to be had than when our Senior officers really fire their broadsides.”

“I think my favorites are when they are trying to do so ’politely’ due to junior officers being present,” Venka said.

Kelly settled in comfortably. Venka and Ellery had two beers in them and were clearly heading down memory lane. This would be good.

“I recall,” began the big man, “shortly after Veers was promoted from Colonel to General, the time that Ozzel came blustering into the bay because the General had ordered a drill that Ozzel hadn’t approved first.”

“He’s not navy,” said Kelly puzzled, “Ozzel didn’t have to….”

“Mmm,” Venka agreed. “It was a bit fuzzy since Ozzel was the Admiral of the fleet, and the Herd was on the flagship, but most agreed that Veers had every right to run the drills, provided he had coordinated with bay chiefs and relevant flight personnel.”

“Which he had of course,” Ellery continued. “Ozzel bustled right in, during the drill (and he could have been stepped on by the way. Pity) and  _ barked _ at the General to come and confer. The General pointed out that he would have to lower the Walker he was in and it would take too long, so he’d confer from his current position, thank you.”

Kelly laughed.

Ellery pointed a finger at him. “Yes, you’re anticipating this. So there they are yelling across the bay, while still trying to have a semblance of decorum. Well, the General was. But Ozzel, he was in front of Walker 8 and that crew….they were the jokesters of the Herd. We all realized that whenever Ozzel turned his head, 8 crew were turning the Walker head to match him. It’s a damn good thing we were all inside our own machines because I know that most of us were laughing.”

Venka grinned. 

“I can’t prove it,” Ellery said, “but I think the General started asking yes or no questions of the Admiral deliberately, and 8 crew started nodded the head ‘yes’ or ‘no’ in answer, despite what Ozzel said.  _ Force _ .” He chuckled. “Ozzel left none the wiser and 8 crew got an extra day of leave from the General, no reason given.”

“I have a good one, but you have to swear yourselves to secrecy,” Venka said when he had finished. 

“Done,” said Kelly immediately, taking a long satisfying drink.

“Of course, sir,” answered Ellery. 

“This was during the obsessive Skywalker hunting days. I don’t think you had been promoted to bridge duty yet, Kelly. Anyway, Ellery, you remember the time that the General got so sick looking for Commander Skywalker, he nearly died?”

Kelly could see from the look on the Sergeant Major’s face that the memory was forever ingrained. 

“Yes,” Ellery said quietly. 

“Sorry,” said Venka, wincing “you would of course. Anyway, shortly after Veers was given the all clear to return to duty I was in an officer’s mess just after my shift and there were two junior lieutenants sitting another table over. What neither they nor I realized, was that Captain Piett was at the bar having a tea break.”

He paused and had a swallow of beer. “You have to promise you won’t breathe a word of this,” he said urgently and Kelly wondered what had happened to cause such urgency in the Vice-Admiral.

“I meant it,” Kelly told him reassuringly.

“It was that bad, sir?” Ellery asked, frowning.

“Depending on whose perspective you take….” Venka said, mysteriously. “Anyway, apparently Henley had discovered that a friend of theirs had a spice issue, during a routine medical, so of course he’d been arrested and dishonorably discharged. He was lucky in my opinion. If Vader had found out, he’d likely be dead. His Lordship  _ hated _ spicers with a particular passion. Still does of course.”

“They were griping about the Doctor and it was getting more and more heated, until one of them said they should lie in wait some night and ‘teach him a lesson. See if he could heal himself.’”

“ _ Stars _ ,” breathed Ellery. 

“I must have blinked,” Venka continued, “because suddenly the Captain was there by their table, and they were scrambling to their feet. And of course, both of them were big, and our Captain, well….”

They all grinned fondly.

“But nine hells, I can count on one hand the amount of times I’ve seen Piett that angry. It was like an interrogation and he was drawing blood with his words.

‘Were you suggesting harm to our Doctor?’ he asked in that dangerous tone he has, you know.”

Kelly nodded. 

“And they were fumbling around, trying to deny it. ‘I know the language of a beat down,’ the Captain said, and space is warmer than his voice was. ‘I promise you this: if you look in his direction, if I hear that you even  _ thought _ of being in his vicinity, I will personally shatter both your kneecaps. I don’t care if you need to see him because you’re missing a limb, you will find another Doctor. He’s the best physician in the galaxy, he’s my doctor, on my ship,and further, he is  _ Lord Vader’s _ personal physician.’ “

Ellery was smiling, clearly picturing this vividly. 

“Clearly those two idiots didn’t know that little tidbit. And our Captain, he wasn’t done with them. ‘A threat to our best doctor, is a threat to Lord Vader, this ship and the fleet,’ he snapped. ‘I call such a thing treason, and I would be more than happy to report it to his Lordship that way.’ I thought they were both going to be ill. He took their names and sent them out. He never knew I was there.”

“Well.” Kelly blew out a breath. “I see why you want that secret. The Admiral would have no defense against the Doctor if that got out.  _ His _ doctor.” He grinned. It was one of many reasons Piett was loved---his deep seated loyalty to all those aboard his Lady was well known. It was also mutual, though Kelly was sure that Piett had no idea just how fervently the crew returned that sentiment. 

“All right, we’ll need to wrap up soon,” said Ellery. “Favorite words recently from our Senior officers.”

“Holo meetings count right?” Venka asked wistfully.

“Of course,” Kelly replied.

It was a favorite way to end these little meetings which they had stumbled upon some time ago.

“If you drank caf, you might recall more clearly that you already put your hat on your head.”

“Veers to Piett,” said Kelly.

Ellery nodded.

“Is it possible to have 24 hours where all your blood  _ stays _ in your body?”

“Hmmm,” Kelly pondered. “Henley obviously, but could be to either….I’ll go with Henley to Piett.”

“Close,” said Venka. “Veers.”

“Dammit!” Kelly exclaimed. “I forgot about the Walker drill accident.”

“My turn,” continued the Captain. “It would behoove you to recall that I am in charge of this ship, and that includes the mouse droids.”

“Piett to Veers,” said Venka.

“Ha!” Kelly exclaimed. “ _ Vader _ to Piett.”

“Son of a Hutt,” Venka groaned, “I can’t believe I forgot we are counting his Lordship.”

Ellery was shaking his head at him. “The Admiral wouldn’t use ‘behoove’ sir.”

“He might!” Venka exclaimed defensively. “He pointed a Vader finger at Fey’lya the other day. Granted it was his holo image, but it made my day.”

“I had understood that you only took apart ships. Why is the AT-ST in pieces?”

“Veers to…..Vader?” Kelly tried.

“Nailed it,” said Ellery.

“Why was the AT-ST in pieces?” Venka asked the Sergeant as they rose.

“Apparently, from what I understand sir,” the man replied, "his Lordship was bored.”

All three of them shuddered at that thought. 

  
  



	88. The Clone who Came in from the Cold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Commander Fox decides to join the Alliance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Morwen convinced me that this character needed to join the AU of Empire Reimagined and so I started researching Fox. I also spent a great deal of time talking to Morwen about what he is like and what he had to deal with. It became clear that he was a character I wanted to see in this AU, if only to give Anakin someone who could absolutely stand up to him. :)
> 
> So here is his debut. I'm happy to hear from you on my interpretation of him as I want to do him justice! :)

He stood and gazed up at the immense Senate building which housed so much history. So many memories. Now the starbird of the New Republic hung proudly on massive banners down the front.

How many times had he entered here without a thought?

He knew precisely where his old office was within its bowels as well. Probably had paperwork still waiting for him somewhere.

But he was tired of living in the shadows, earning a living as a mercenary. He had always been part of something---had been proud to be so. 

_ Perhaps he could be again, whispered that small voice of hope in his head. _

He had watched the sham trial of Anakin Skywalker--Darth Vader--from across the galaxy. Had recognized his officers. He had then witnessed the stunning rescue on the holonet along with the rest of the population in the bar he’d been in.

Jedi. 

More than that---the Jedi children of Anakin Skywalker and Padme’ Amidala. 

He watched in stunned silence as troop ships full of men in the distinctive 501st armor had landed to defend their commander. 

He saw a unit. He saw a leader and family and honor. He longed for that once more. 

It seemed fitting somehow, that he come to the place in which he had held authority in order to surrender himself. 

He shifted his red helmet to his other hip. It felt both strange and right to be in his armor once more after so many years without it. But if he was doing this, he would do it right. His blasters were holstered to make it clear he offered no threat. 

He took a breath and moved down the long walkway to the massive main entry. He passed many curious beings, but as troopers were not uncommon, he was not stopped. 

_ They had really let security slip then since he’d been here. No guards until the main entry? It was practically criminal. Maybe they should send engraved invitations to those who would attack the building.  _

At last he was challenged by two of the guards at the huge door. 

_ Put your hands on your blasters at least, you shiny twits, _ he thought.  _ I have two DC-17s in reach, for Force sake.  _

“State your name and business trooper,” said one of the guards in a rather bored tone. 

_ Was the New Republic that confident they would not be attacked here? How many stories did he have of that very thing? _

Or maybe he just didn’t know how to work with peacetime. Regardless, he would enjoy the shock for these over casual kriffers.

“CC-1010 Commander Fox.”

The guard typed it into the pad…...and froze.

Fox saw the moment that the alert went to all the other guards further in, and suddenly he had blasters trained on his center mass.

_ Finally. He could have been inside having tea after shooting them all at this point.  _

“I’m here to surrender to the New Republic. And have a word with your commander about the utterly  _ lax _ security standards.”

*****

He’d been passed from person to person. They clearly were not sure what to do with him. He’d grown tired of explaining his intentions (join the Alliance), explaining who he was ( _ not _ a threat), and not being offered any caf to speak of (inhumane really). 

His blasters and helmet had been taken (so they knew how to do some things then) and he’d been left in the latest room, cuffed to the table, though not cruelly.

_ I could get out of this easily _ , he thought, gauging the heft of the table and the strength of the chain that kept his binders attached to it.

He wouldn’t of course. But he  _ could _ , that was the point. The door opened at last and a young officer stood nervously regarding him. 

“Sir,” she said, “I’m to escort you to your transport.”

_ Transport? _

“I’m being taken….off planet?” he asked, trying to keep a lid on his puzzlement.

“Yes sir,” she replied, releasing the binders from the table and motioning him forward.

_ Well what the kriff was this all for if they were sending him away?  _

And suddenly, he felt fear. What if they were just going to lock him up and leave him to rot? He thought they were better than _that_. But…..he had worked for the wrinkled Sith bastard after all. 

“Where am I headed then, Ensign?” he asked the young woman behind him.

“Sir, that’s above my paygrade.”

Realizing he would get no more from her, he remained silent as they made their way to a small ground transport and they whisked through Coruscant traffic to a smaller landing pad much further out than the Senate.

He got out stiffly. He hadn’t slept all that much in the game the Alliance had played of ‘pass the clone’ and he was feeling it. 

A young man clad in a black jumpsuit was waiting for him next to a lamda shuttle. It was both familiar and strange to see Imperial equipment with Rebel--sorry--- _ Alliance _ personnel. 

“Thanks, Ensign, I’ve got it from here,” the young man said cheerfully, and she gave him a relieved salute even though Fox could see no rank designation, and left hurriedly, glad to be rid of him no doubt. 

The young man regarded him with striking blue eyes. 

“You’ve had a bit of a rough time, haven’t you Commander?” he asked, with a small smile.

He didn’t need some Rebel kid’s pity.

“Trust me when I say I’ve had far worse than New Republic incompetence, kid.”

The young man’s lip twitched.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you could be my friend’s dad with that tone and that nickname.”

“I’m a clone, son, so….”

“Oh I know, Commander Fox. Shall we?”

He gestured to the shuttle and Fox entered, noting that it was very well cared for and in pristine condition. 

The pilot gestured to the co-pilot’s seat and Fox sank down into it.

“You all favor Imperial shuttles then?”

The kid laughed. “Well, I’m borrowing this one. I’m a fighter pilot, but I volunteered to get you when they decided that you should be questioned by the only person who can determine the veracity of your claims.”

He lifted off smoothly and they moved into atmosphere.

“I don’t recognize this shuttle designation,” Fox said after a moment, studying it.

“Well sir it’s a bit after your time, with all due respect. She’s from the Lady, sorry, the Executor.”

Fox had seen images. “The Super Star Destroyer?”

“Yes.”

“I’m going there?”

“Yes, sir. She’s not far at the moment and the person you’re meeting felt that would be a more convenient spot for him.”   
  


“So they grabbed a shiny fighter pilot for a lamda….?”

The blonde chuckled. “Sir….I’m not that young. And I’m one of the best pilots they’ve got. I think that’s why the Admiral let me take his shuttle.”

_ The…. _

“Admiral….Piett?”

“That’s right. You know him?”

“I know  _ of _ him. Who are you kid? Taking Admiral’s shuttles to come get a clone commander?”

The young man smiled at him and gestured at his binders which promptly fell to the deck.

_ Oh Force. That was why he had felt familiar.  _

“I’m Luke Skywalker.”

“Anakin Skywalker’s son.”

“That’s right.”

_ Well wasn’t life a big bundle of bizarre? He was being piloted by Anakin Skywalker’s son.  _

“Should you have taken off the binders?”

Skywalker laughed. “As though you couldn’t have got out of them. Why? You planning on attacking me?”

“No.”

“Well then. And there’s a water bottle in the holder by your seat. You’re thirsty.”

Fox looked at him sharply.

“Don’t do your Jedi hocus pocus on me, kid.”

“Sorry.”

But he did find the water and appreciated it deeply. 

“So….Commander. What was your division? I haven’t seen red armor before.”

_ He did not do small talk. _

“Kid, you already know my file.”   


“I don’t actually. I was just told to pick up a clone defector so we could verify your claims.”

Fox glanced at him suspiciously, and Skywalker gave him a sunny smile.

“Why do you care? I’m just going to be locked up aren’t I?”

The young man’s face sobered and damn it, he didn’t need the kid’s pity.

“I do care, actually. I’m interested. But also, I can say with reasonable certainty you’re not going to be locked up.”

“Jedi intuition?” scoffed Fox.

“Yes,” he answered with conviction. “Commander….look, I know some troopers from the 501st. You’re not the first clone to defect as well. You didn’t have it…..easy. And I know that word isn’t sufficient. I’m not the one to decide your fate. I’m just taking you to the ship. But I heard….I heard that red armor meant the Coruscant guard. That’s more rare, sir.”

“Yeah.”

_ He wondered if any of his men still lived. _

“Well...I wondered….my mother was Senator Amidala. I just thought maybe you…”

And a flood of memories poured through his brain.  _ The powerhouse contained in that petite frame. The set of her jaw when she was determined. The rumors about her and Anakin Skywalker, which were clearly quite true, given that their son was sitting by him. _

“I met her a few times.”

And the eager hunger in those blue eyes. Fox certainly wasn’t the only one who’d lost family because of his late unlamented boss.

“I didn’t know her well, kid,” he said, softening his tone. “I was the Commander of the guard, that’s true, but I didn’t work with her closely. I had a  _ few _ other Senators to consider.”

Skywalker must have heard something in his tone.

“Not an easy job then.”

“Well, one of my chief duties was keeping the Supreme Chancellor safe. Turns out he was a Sith  _ demagolka _ and I was left questioning everything after….”

He shut up. He didn’t know why he was telling Skywalker’s kid about this.

“Can we just not, kid?”

“Sure,” the young Jedi replied softly. They were silent as they finished their journey. Fox was sure he had dozed for a while. When he opened his eyes a massive and beautiful ship was floating before him.

“Kriff.”

Skywalker grinned at him.

“She's immense!! But wow. What a beaut.”

“Well, you’ll make a friend of Admiral Piett, sir if you tell him. There is no more perfect ship in the galaxy in his eyes.”

The ship gradually grew until they were passing into one of a multitude of hangar bays.

Skywalker executed a perfect landing and turned to him.

“Well. I’m hoping to see you around, Commander.”

_ Did this kid ever not smile? _

“Unless I’m an Imperial spy.”

“You’re not,” Skywalker said with confidence, offering him a hand up out of the co-pilot’s seat. “I can feel it. You’re just a man looking for the purpose he lost.”

Fox felt a flare of anger at that.

“Don’t try to understand me, kid. You don’t know what I lost.”

“That’s true,” said Skywalker mildly, “but you’re among people who have all lost something. Makes us value what we have. I hope you stay.”

He offered his hand to shake.

And nine hells, he couldn’t refuse the kid.

“We’ll see what this interrogator of yours says.”

He got a wry smile. “Yes indeed.”

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Morwen's 'The Next Best Thing to an Honorable Friend' follows on from this one shot. Check it out! :)


	89. Repairing Lord Vader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is for Germanspeaker who gave me this prompt. How did Vader meet Henley? :)  
> So thank you for the idea--I had a great time with it!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This may be the first story I have written that neither has Piett in it, nor references him. Astonishing, really.

He had wondered frequently if he should have taken that fellowship on Coruscant. Certainly it would have brought more acclaim, and Henley was not loathe to admit that he liked acclaim. But he equally liked actually saving lives and not just writing papers about it, or lecturing about it. Oh sure, maybe someday, but he wanted to really hit cutting edge things.

Serving in the Imperial forces allowed him to treat all sorts of patients and all sorts of injuries and ailments. It meant exposure (potentially) to new diseases or weapons.

He wasn’t saying he enjoyed all of that. Of course he didn’t  _ like _ seeing men suffer. But Henley was able to be objective in a way that others couldn’t understand. 

Which was fine because he didn’t need them to. He was a doctor for kriff’s sake not a therapist. Ok. Well. Technically they were doctors too. He was just more…..well, he was  _ more _ . 

Serving on the Imperial flagship had brought new levels of interest for Henley. More than one body had come through for an autopsy with odd strangulation marks.

He had asked another doctor about it, and she had looked terrified.

“Lord  _ Vader _ ,” she’d squeaked softly. “They are all to be marked killed in the line of duty. And don’t say anymore about it.”

_Ah_.

The resident Sith commander. He was rumored to have gone through numerous personal doctors as well. Henley was  _ deeply _ curious about the injuries the man (maybe a man, he didn’t really know) had sustained for such a suit. 

He thought about researching it, and then considered that he was on the Executor and Lord Vader would absolutely find out. 

He wanted to live, thank you.

Still…..Henley was curious. It was part of what made him a good doctor. And he had never seen a suit like that before.

His sickbay was located near the hangar bay in which the army kept their machines the….ACs? AP….A somethings. They looked like giant metal animals. Things were relatively busy in his sickbay, therefore as they usually received the brunt of the returning armed forces. 

And then came the day.

****

“Put him over there!” Henley shouted. He was doing triage while his colleagues worked in the operating theatres. The rate they were going he was going to need to send patients up a deck as the sickbays closest to the hangars were getting overwhelmed. It had been a major action, and the Rebels had caused great damage---far more than they had anticipated. 

“Deck 18,” he told the next droid pushing a grav sled. “18, 18. Take him to surgery right now. Not viable. 18……”

“Doctor!” yelled a voice of command and he looked up, frowning. His was the only voice of command he really wanted to hear.

A stern looking colonel was running toward him, helping to steading a grav sled with another medic. And on the sled….

He could smell electrical damage and see some melting in the prosthetics, and the control panel on his chest was flickering violently….

_ Oh kriffing hell….. _

“Who is his doctor?” Henley snapped, having not kept up with the parade that Lord Vader had gone through.

“You are at the moment!” the colonel shot back. 

  
  
“Sir,” said the medic urgently, “his life signs are all over the place, we don’t have time to get him up to his deck…..”

“Fine,” Henley said through stiff lips.

_ Oh Force, oh Force…..You wanted a look at the suit…. _

“Triest!” he shouted and the blonde doctor looked over her shoulder in irritation.

“Which sickbay on this deck still has an open surgery?”   
  


“5B. But Henley we’ll clear one---it’s Lord Vader….”

“I’m not pitching a man out to die, just because of rank here!” Henley sniped. The colonel looked at him with raised eyebrows.

“Help me get him to 5B!” Henley ordered, shouldering his scanner and emergency kit.

The colonel surprisingly obeyed and they made their way swiftly down the chaotic corridors where men sprang out of their way once they saw who was on the grav sled. 

They raced into the teaming sickbay and Henley barked, “Surgery?”

The triage team took one look. “Third theatre back, sir.”

They made it there, and between the three of them, heaved Lord Vader ( _ Force _ he was heavy!) onto the operating table.

“What happened?” Henley asked the colonel, as he worked to undo the helmet. The breathing was the most pressing thing at the moment.

“The Rebels had some sort of weapon---I’d never seen it before. And I’ve never seen anything that could do this to his suit! Possibly some Jedi thing?”

“All right. I’m not an engineer. I can do prosthetics and neural interfaces, but that control panel on his suit is beyond me. Get me an engineer---the best we have….what’s your name?”

“Veers,” responded the colonel curtly and he was flipping his comlink on to turn away and speak into it as Henley directed the medic to open the air flow to its highest concentration on the oxygen mask.

“Can’t intubate----lungs are too damaged…” Henley muttered to himself as the scanner began to tell him what was under all this durasteel.

“There’s an engineer on the way,” Veers told him. “I need to go Doctor.”

“Fine,” Henley waved him away, his focus was on the patient.

“All right, medic we’re going to take his helmet off….”

His scanner flew out of his hands to smash to the floor and he realized in a distantly horrified way that his patient was awake.

“My Lord….”

The medic was palpably terrified.

“You…..will not…..touch the….helmet.”

“My Lord,” Henley said, “your respirator is not functioning correctly. You will suffocate.”

“I can…..use….the Force.”

“I don’t….”

The medic was shoved by an invisible hand, and the man lost his nerve and fled the room.

_ Well kriff. _

“My Lord,” said Henley, sweating but also trying to do his  _ damn job _ , “you are badly injured…”

“TOUCH the….helmet….and….DIE.”

“You know what?” Henley snapped. “At this point, I’m dead either way. I’m dead if you die on my table and I’m dead if you kill me for trying to save your kriffing life. So. I’m going to do what I was trained for, my Lord and save life.”

There was a silence broken only by Lord Vader’s failing breathing.

“Fine. Only you.”

“Well, I have an engineer coming…..”

“Doctor Henley?” interrupted a new voice. He jerked his head over to see a barrel chested man standing in the doorway with a toolkit.

“Ah….is that, Lord  _ Vader _ ?”

“I know why….he’s here. I…..do my own…...suit maintenance.”

“While dying?” Henley shot down at the gleaming death mask, somehow so overshot with adrenaline, and the surrealness of the situation that he was supremely uncaring of his audience.

The engineer gaped at him.

“Come here. What’s your name?”

“I’m Baldwin sir. I’m the Chief. Veers said you needed the best so….”

“Perfect. His control panel was damaged and I don’t know about that…”

“No one else…..has touched…..this….”

“Well maybe it’s time my Lord. Since, as I see, you cannot move your prosthetics.  _ That _ I can fix. But first, your breathing.”

A long pause as Baldwin opened the sparking panel and drew over a cart to set his toolkit on.

“Only…..you.”

“Baldwin? You promise not to look at his Lordship’s face?”

He knew the man was likely as curious as Henley was but he nodded shortly, engrossed in his work.

“Can I please do my job now, my Lord?”

“.... _Fine_.”

And he peeled the mask back, immediately bringing over the oxygen mask and getting it around the bald head. He had to be careful--the skin was thin, white and easily damaged. 

_ Kriff, the injuries. _

“Not….your….job to….speculate, Doctor,” the man (he was the shell of one at least) wheezed.

“True my Lord. I must have facts. And I estimate we have two hours until this oxygen isn’t sufficient. So, Baldwin, I hope you can repair that by then.”

The Chief looked up and was composed though Henley could see the sweat already. 

“I’ll…..do my utmost, my Lord.”

“So then,” Henley said, peeling back the damaged suit from the right arm and applying the strongest numbing agent he had to the stump of the real arm, “how linked in are these neural circuits? Spine? Brain? You smashed my scanner so…”

“The….helmet...has most of the….feed. The sensors….in the….arms need….repair, however.”

“Yes, I’d picked that up, my Lord,” said Henley dryly.

Rheumy blue eyes (he had blue eyes) managed to still convey an expression of... _ irritation _ ?

“I will….know if…..you….make a mistake.”

“Not in the business of doing so,” Henley returned loftily as he bent over the circuits embedded in the living arm.

Baldwin made a choked noise and Henley shot him a sharp look, concerned that Lord Vader was taking out his temper upon the man, but it was just the engineer quelling his disbelief at the situation.

“You have great…..arrogance….doctor.”

“I’m confident, my Lord. There’s a difference.”

Was that weak noise a….. _ snort _ ?

He rather thought it was. But he was busy focusing and didn’t look up to confirm.

After fifteen of the tensest minutes in Henley’s life, the right arm was repaired. He was also learning a great deal that he tucked away. He was sure his Lordship could sense this, but he didn’t try to say anything.

_ This suit was appalling. Whoever designed it ought to be shot. He was a doctor true, but he thought his oath of ‘doing no harm’ included taking away those that did harm. Well. From a certain point of view….. _

Regardless, it was his job currently to repair it and it was actually keeping his Lordship alive so….

“Baldwin?”    
  


“I think I may have figured this out, Doctor. My Lord, whatever hit you….this panel needs better shielding. I could perhaps help design something….”

“I …..do my…..own designing….”

Henley rolled his eyes.

“Did you….just….roll… your…?”

“My Lord, if you want to survive, at the moment you have the Chief and I striving to help you. No amount of Jedi….”

A jerk in the torso of deep offense, judging by his Lordship’s expression.

“...Or Sith, whatever, seems similar to me, but no amount of your Force magic is going to help you if you aren’t conscious to use it! And I have no knowledge of your mechanical expertise, my Lord, but the Chief…”

A definitely outraged sound now.

“I….am the….best mechanic….in the …. _ galaxy _ .”

Henley rolled his eyes again. “Be that as it may, my Lord, please stop talking. We are trying to make sure your lungs don’t give out completely.”

Those blue eyes were glaring at him now but Henley could handle glaring since it didn’t use up much needed oxygen.

He put all his focus to the left arm neural connections before turning his attention to the appalling helmet. 

“My Lord, this suit and helmet….”

“Not a …..topic….I want to…..discuss Doctor.”

Did the man  _ want _ to suffer?

“If I….did….it is…. Not your...concern.”

_ Reading minds then. Disturbing power. _

But Henley had some self preservation instincts and knew this topic at least, would need to be tabled.

“Chief, how are you doing?”

“Almost…..there.” And all the lights on the panel of the suit stabilized.

“Are the neural connections in the helmet damaged?” Henley asked the Chief.

Before Baldwin could answer however, Darth Stubbornness jumped in. It seemed he was determined to destroy all remaining lung tissue.

“They are…..functional. I can…..repair them in….my hyperbaric chamber.”

“ _ Force _ ,” Henley said in exasperation.

“Precisely,” said Vader and Baldwin (who was working very hard not to look at his Sith commander) stared at Henley instead. 

_ Had they…..was that….. _ **_humor_ ** _? _

Henley carefully placed the faceplate back where it belonged, suppressing his thoughts on how the thing worked, and placing the helmet back on his lordship’s head.

And to his shock and the Chief’s, Lord Vader slowly sat up.

“My Lord…”

“Enough of your attempts to command me Doctor, you should know they are futile. I have a ship to deal with.”

And without further ado, he rose slowly, majestically, and strode from the room. The slight pause at the door might have been for effect, but Henley thought it more likely that the man was running on fumes, but was too proud to show it.

*****

Three days later, Henley was summoned to the Dark Lord’s chambers.

His medical team all looked at him like he was condemned. Maybe he was. Somehow though, Henley didn’t think so.

The doors opened at his approach and he strode in. He knew that people slunk in here in fear and trembling. Let it not be said of Victor P. Henley.

“Doctor,” came deep tones and Vader strode out of the shadows near his hyperbaric chamber.

That may terrify others. It did  _ not _ terrify him. (That was what he told himself anyway.)

“I want you to be my personal doctor.”

Well. Didn’t ease into things did he?

“Of course, my Lord, ah….”

You did an…..acceptable job with assisting me.”

_ Acceptable? Assisting? _ Henley tried to quell his outrage and  _ how _ could a faceless helmet somehow convey dark amusement?

“If you are to fulfill your duties as my doctor there are two things you must promise.”

“Very well, my Lord.”

“First, you must swear to utter patient confidentiality on absolutely every facet of my care.”

_ Kriff, he was a doctor wasn’t he? Obviously he would do that. _

“Naturally, my Lord.” He thought he managed to huff just the right amount.

“Second, I want you to swear that you will speak your mind to me as you did several days ago. Not before others or there will be….consequences.”

Henley was never at a loss for words. Apparently there was a first time for everything.

“You….you mean that, my Lord?”

“I do not say things I do not mean, Doctor.”

_ Nine hells that vocoder made everything sound kriffing intimidating.  _

But Henley recalled faded blue eyes and exasperated tenor tones.

Somewhere under there was a man. 

“Very well, my Lord.”

“Good. Come and see my private medical facilities then. You need to understand some things.”

And he turned, his cape billowing out, expecting Henley to follow.

The Doctor shrugged and followed.


	90. Repairing Wounds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is high time that some of our people got the help they need. It just took them a while to figure out where they could get it.   
> Leia and her Admiral have a conversation about struggling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Leia and Piett. You all know this about me, if you've read my work. :) I have loved the journey of two damaged people with gaping holes in their lives finding both family and healing with one another.   
> So here's another step for them with that!

Leia was concerned. 

One could argue that she always had concerns, and that was a fair point given her diplomatic status. But she classified those sorts of concerns differently. 

No, these worries were closer to home. 

She paused before entering the area of the Executor’s ‘Alliance’ lounger that they thought of as theirs, to consider him. 

He was tired— the slope of his shoulders told her that even if he could hide it from others. And that was reasonable. They had recently had numerous difficult assignments. Mostly successful, but at cost. Much work was on both the Admiral’s desk and his shoulders. 

But this was more. She studied the bowed head and could feel a shadow upon him. 

Well. 

They had learned in numerous ways that they could lean on each other. 

Leia moved softly into their space, and her Admiral lifted his face to hers with a welcoming smile, but…. 

Something was very wrong. She could feel it. 

He lifted a mug to her and she accepted gratefully—drawing the comforting smell of spice into her senses. 

“This is definitely a tea day,” She commented with a slight smile.

“Agreed,” he said, taking a sip of his own and then holding the mug in both hands in the way he did when he was just appreciating the warmth. 

Leia decided that she was tabling their planned discussion of upcoming diplomatic missions for another time and settled herself beside him rather than opposite him, setting her mug down and touching his arm carefully. 

“What is it?” she asked. _She had been studying Jedi healing extensively. But this....this was something that even the Force was not capable of healing._

He shot her a wry glance. 

“With anyone else I could just say ‘I’m tired’ and we’d leave it at that. I don’t suppose that’s an option?”

She hated hearing the deep weariness in his voice. 

“Only if you want it to be, Admiral of mine.”

He huffed a sigh and took another drink. 

“I’m not sure what….” he stopped.

His emotions were raw and near the surface and Leia wasn’t  _ trying _ to read him, but….

_ Frustration, anger, uncertainty, fear…. _

None of it directed at her. Directed at...himself.

“Would it help if I asked you to talk to me then? You know I want to hear.”

He smiled ruefully into his tea.

“My dear girl...I’m not sure you want to hear  _ this _ . Though Veers did say….” 

And she hated seeing him look so lost. She decided to push gently.

“If the General encouraged you to talk, then I can only think it’s a good suggestion,” she told him, placing her hand on his back, and feeling the tension in his muscles.

Another shuddering sigh, and he was clearly warring with himself. She wouldn’t fight this battle for him--either the stoic Admiral would insist that he get a stiff upper lip (and she really hoped not) or the man with the heart she loved would be willing to be vulnerable to her.

He set his mug down, undid the latch on his jacket and nodded. 

“I….can’t sleep my dear. And...it’s having a toll.” She waited, lifting her tea and running a hand down his back.

_ He trusted her enough. She was glad. _

“I am having nightmares. I had thought I was done with these particular ones, but recent events have….brought them back to the surface, it seems. Henley says that he’s not surprised since I didn’t ah…..deal with it initially…  _ Force _ .”

Her heart hurt for him. “Admiral dearest, all of us have nightmares. It doesn’t mean you’re weak.”

He nodded, still looking at his hands. “Veers said the same. Thank you. But it’s...I wake up and I’m terrified to fall asleep again because….”

She knew this road well. 

“It will happen all over again. And what if….what if this is the dream and the other is real?”   
  


He looked fully at her at last, his countenance haggard.

“Yes. My darling girl, are you sure we should discuss this? I am aware….”

“I’m still not precisely clear on what we’re discussing, Admiral.” She reached for his hands and gripped them firmly. “But I want to help if I can.”

His hazel eyes met her brown ones. “We can stop here if you wish, princess. I would never want to hurt you….” He took a breath. “Your brother helped save me from the hands of the Black Sun two and a half years ago now. We just encountered them recently as you recall and….” *

She understood now. Knew why he was hesitant to speak to her, and loved him for his consideration of her own trauma. Her gut churned. Because she had never spoken of it. Not to Luke or Han and  _ absolutely _ not with her Father. 

“It brought everything back for you. I take it you were….tortured then?” she said it out loud for both of them. 

He shuddered and answered that question in the movement.

He had never spoken of that experience beyond acknowledging his capture and her brother’s part in his rescue. She had suspected this but…. well. She wouldn’t appreciate someone asking about her own experiences...

She moved to nudge his arm so that he rested it over her shoulders, and snugged herself into his side.

“If we’re talking about this, I shall need you as much as you need me, dearest Admiral,” she said and he managed a half laugh half sob and brought both his arms around her. 

“Better,” she informed him, reaching her hand up to wipe the tear tracking down his cheek.

“I shouldn’t….”

“Don’t. PTSD doesn’t work with ‘shouldn’t’. I woke up screaming on Hoth so many nights….I managed a year after the Death Star before my nightmares showed up in force. Don’t ask me why it….”

_ Her Father, black and menacing before her, the droid making its damn whirring noise to the side… _ .

His arms tightened around her.

“How long did they have you?” she asked quietly.

“Days? I’m….not entirely sure.”   
  


“No. It blurs,” she said, and shivered suddenly feeling the cold of the cell all over again. 

“I’m sorry my dear, we can…”

“No. It’s...I know I’m not there and you have me. Just, next time we talk about this it’s in your quarters so I can have the throw.”

She felt his pause.

“Next time?”

She craned her head to look at him and tightened her hold on his arm. “Absolutely next time. This isn’t going to go away just because you and I talked once.”

He met her gaze and smiled slightly. 

“If only it would. All right.”

“What…..what’s the worst recurring part?” she asked, knowing hers immediately.

He was silent for a long time and she began to wonder if he wouldn’t answer when…

“That no one comes for me.”

_ Oh Admiral. Already vulnerable to the fear of being alone and unwanted ... _ _   
  
_

She shifted in his hold to get her own arms around his middle and lean her head over his heart. 

“I’m sorry, Admiral dear. That must be awful. But I hope you know---we will  _ always _ come for you. I’ll come by myself if I have to.”

She heard the small chuckle in his chest. 

“I do know that…. when I’m awake. And….yours, my dear?”

“That….that he  _ knows _ I’m his daughter. And….he takes the mask off and tortures me anyway.”

“My  _ dear… _ .”

She heard the grief in his voice and he dropped his lips to her hair.

“I’m so sorry.”

She was quiet for a moment, listening to his heart.

“Thank you. And….” She sighed. “This is going to make things difficult for a while---bringing it all to the fore again.”

“I imagine. Would you rather not…?”   
  


She tightened her hold. “Admiral dear, stop suggesting we shouldn’t talk about it. I may be at some sort of peace with the man, but part of the consequences for what he did is that there are times we aren’t going to be all that comfortable around each other.”

“I just….I wish that I had the power to help both of you,” he said quietly, “but I acknowledge that you are correct.”

And Leia had another moment (she’d thought it before) of wishing this man was her actual father.

  
  


*****

This girl of his was so strong. He had known that from the moment he’d met her, but she showed him new depth all the time. 

And she was very generous to speak with him and open her own wounds in the process.

The thing he’d been suppressing and denying for so long was out there and it was safe in her hands. 

She knew he was afraid. It didn’t bother her. Objectively, he knew he was by far, not the only one to struggle with such a thing. But…

….but he was the  _ Admiral _ . He could not let it break him. 

“Do you ah….. speak with anyone about this my dear?” he asked quietly. 

The dark head shook against his chest. 

“Han…. already has his own struggle, though he’s making progress. Luke senses how I feel of course, but…. he wasn’t there. And he has a different relationship to our Father. Knowing the details would….. harm that.”

_ And she loved her brother enough to want to preserve his relationship with their Father. _

“A doctor then…?”

She laughed a little but there was no humor there. 

“I am likely very similar to you in this respect, Admiral of mine. I abhor that thought.”

“Yes,” he agreed briefly. 

She was warm against him, this remarkable princess, Senator, and Jedi Warrior, who was also very battered inside. 

“Do you talk to anyone, Admiral?”

He sighed. “A little to Max, but…..”

Her arms tightened. 

“I know you, dearest Admiral. You do know it’s not….. _ weak _ , don’t you?”

“I know that rationally, my dear. As, I imagine, do you. Does it help to tell yourself that?”

A little pause.

“No,” she said quietly. “My rational thoughts on this have not had a great deal of success.”

“Well.” He paused, hoping this was the right call. “Perhaps we ought to help each other then. Be aware that I’ve been historically rubbish at discussing these sorts of….personal issues.” 

She snorted lightly and gave him a gentle squeeze. 

“That I do know about you, Admiral dear. “

“And I will of course, completely understand if you want to stop at any time, there’s no obligation…”

“Admiral.”

Her voice stopped him. “I….would like to say something I’m not sure either of us has said out loud, but I think you in particular need it said.”

She shifted slightly and he looked down into her large eyes. “You are my family. That’s all. And….I would like to think I am yours...oop.”

He tried not to crush her with the strength of his hug, and she gave a little laugh. 

Her simple affection eased him tremendously. She seemed to sense this, and sat up reluctantly. 

“If we both relax, I’m going to fall asleep here. So. You and I are a bit of a mess—- I am quite all right with that provided we’re working on it. Once a month? With allowance for…emergencies?”

“I’m less of a mess thanks to you, dear girl,” he told her, feeling deeply fond of her. 

She smiled widely at him. “Mutual you know. It…. it does help to know that someone else has walked this very same road, even as I wish that you hadn’t.” 

_ How he wished he could have taken her trauma on himself.  _

“I shall start to message you in the morning then, dearest Admiral, and you can tell me how the night was.” 

He nodded, doing up his jacket once more. 

“And if you need an emergency chat in the night please comm me.”

She looked at him doubtfully. “I would hate to wake you….”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “Two way road, my very favorite princess.”

She laughed a real laugh this time and picked up his cap, reaching to place it on his head and then put a hand on his face. 

“Thank you for trusting me.”

He reached up to take her hand in his. 

“What would I do without you?” he asked her, genuinely pondering that. 

“You would continue to be the stalwart man that I care for. But I appreciate the sentiment,” she told him. “I try not to think about life without you. We’ve come too close to that several times now and….” she stopped as her voice trembled slightly.

He rose, still grasping her hand, and she rose with him as he embraced her firmly.

“Annnnd….apparently we might need to talk about that as well,” she said in a muffled voice into his uniform. 

“Anything,” he agreed. “I am sorry I’m adding to your list of problems….”

“Admiral.” She pulled back to look him fully in the eye. “You are typically on my list of solutions for many things. Han agrees by the way.”

He was amused by this validation, but took it in the sincerity it was meant.

“I just...you’re also on my list of people that I can’t do without. So…”

“All right, your highness.” He smiled and released her. “Then shall we say my quarters? Two weeks time?”

“I’ll bring the cocoa,” his princess said. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *See "Sacrifice" from The Fox and the Lady


	91. The Tales of Captain Piett Part 1: The Adventure with the Rogues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The princess gets to hear about Piett's meeting with some of Rogue Squadron shortly after becoming the Captain of the Executor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This idea literally t-boned me as I was writing a different one shot. I paused to jot it out, thinking it would be a fun little jaunt. 30 pages later......  
> So it's a two part story and I intend to periodically throw in more of the Tales of Captain Piett because it's a fun time period to write.  
> I hope you enjoy because I discovered that I liked having Hobbie, both alive and a character in the AU. ;)
> 
> This is for guepard54 who asked for more Rogue action some time back. :)

“So they still haven’t solidified the terms for Thalystia to join the New Republic?”

Veers was incredulous. 

The princess moaned and managed to finally wrestle off her other boot to shove them under the low table in front of the sofa and tuck her legs up. Piett draped her throw around her shoulders, and she threw him a grateful look as he came around to join her.

Veers handed him a whiskey and poured one for himself. 

“No,” her highness sighed, rubbing at her head. She had just returned from four days on the capitol planet and looked very worn. Piett had suggested that perhaps she could join them a different evening if she was too exhausted for their weekly get together. She had insisted that she needed to unwind, and that Solo was already asleep.

“So,” she continued, settling herself against the Admiral who tucked her into his side with practised ease, “it means I shall have to return in another month and agonize over it once more.”

“Let me guess at the chief objectors,” Veers said dryly, seating himself and placing his booted feet on the ottoman in front of him. Piett had acquired it recently, because--

_ “My table needs to actually be used as a table and not a footstool, Max.” _

“Fey’lya.”

She snorted with a frown. “Naturally.

“Clydel.”

“Yes.”   
  


“Anyone representing the Ryndellian Sector.”

“General, would you like to come next time? Because clearly you have a better grasp of the issues here than most of the politicians.”

Piett chuckled at his expression.

“My dear, Max would rather shoot off his leg than deal with politics on that scale.”

“You’re not wrong.”   
  


“Please,” said her highness, “I would deeply appreciate talking about anything other than the negotiations. Sarlacc pits have more appeal. Believe me, I know.”

Piett tightened his arm around her and dropped a kiss on her hair. “Of course. Shall I tell you how the General has decided to try and kill me?”

Veers snorted into his glass. 

“Firmus, you remind me once again, just how overly dramatic the navy is.”   
  


The princess was looking at him inquiringly.

“I instituted some new training ideas into our regime, and the Admiral is finding it a bit….challenging.”

He enjoyed the sound of outrage Piett made. 

“You insisted on no safety ropes, Veers, and that nearly cost me…!”

“But you made it, Admiral, and while your time for the course wasn’t the best….”

Piett huffed and Veers grinned. He may complain about it all he wanted, but the General knew his friend very well, and Piett had indeed been given a challenge. Never let it be said his friend wasn’t competitive.

The princess was smiling now, so Veers felt they were succeeding. 

“I’m sure her highness can hear you complain about training another time, Firmus…”

The Admiral took a drink, shaking his head in disgust.

“.....so I think you need to give her a Captain Piett story.”

“You think that, do you? Why not a Colonel Veers story?”

“Because it’s your turn, obviously. And I think it’s high time she heard about that little skirmish with the Rebel pilots.”

The princess perked up tremendously. “What? What skirmish?”

Piett raised an eyebrow at him. “I was in the wrong place at the wrong time… but it ended well. I’m alive after all, and I think I recognized one of the pilots at last, just the other day, which is why Veers is bringing this up.”

“Well.” The princess settled back against him. “Now I very much want to hear.”

Piett held his glass out to Veers meaningfully, and he rose to grab the bottle and splash a little more into his glass.

“Very well. Just know there are no hard feelings…”

  
  


*****

Piett smelled fire. It was the first coherent thought he’d had in….well. He wasn’t sure. 

_ Why wasn’t he sure? _

He moved slightly and pain lanced through his head.

All right. No moving for a bit. Now though, voices were making their way into his addled brain.

“...we get a signal out that the Imps won’t get?”

“I’m trying to jury rig this, Sanders, all right? You’ll notice that I’m not an engineering expert!”

“Any other survivors?”

“No. At least not anywhere close to our location. Hobbie and I buried his guys.”

“Is he going to live?”

“Yes, just a concussion and his knee’s a bit banged up.”

They were talking about him. They had buried his ‘guys’....?

And suddenly Piett’s memory returned.

_ Transferring back from the Avenger to Executor in his shuttle…. _

_ ….the Rebel fleet dropping out of space in a surprise attack on Death Squadron…. _

_ His pilot had done his best, but they were hit…. _

_ Piett had taken the controls and wrestled the ship….. _

_ The tiny moon they were orbiting came closer in his viewport, and he was damned if he wouldn’t take a few of the bastards with him… _

_ Firing the lamda’s working guns at the X-Wings and he was reasonably sure he got one… _

So his men hadn’t made it. Piett felt grief over that. He’d only been the Executor’s captain for three months, but these were his men…

And wait. Why couldn’t he see? Hadn’t he opened his eyes?

He shifted again and raised his hands to his face. Well. He tried. He discovered that his wrists were contained in binders which were in turn attached to...something.

“Well. You’re awake then.”

_ He was a prisoner. Kriff. Time to figure out the situation. _

“Why can’t I see?”

A sigh above him and a hand checked his pulse.

“Because some of us have bizarre ideas about taking prisoners….”

“I’ve never done it before, Sanders! And he shouldn’t see our faces or we’ll have to kill him.”

Piett snorted. “This is war. Not a kidnapping plot.”

_ Of course, if they knew who he was, perhaps they would try to use him as a hostage….? _

“That’s what I said, Captain,” came the first voice. 

Piett shifted his head again and the lack of his sight was making him feel sick---that combined with his concussion of course. 

“Can you…..” he began, and took a deep breath trying to calm his stomach. “Will you please just take it off for kriff’s sake? I’m not sure what you think I’d do with knowing your faces…”

“Hobbie, I’m taking it off.”

“Fine. When they come for us it’s on you.”

And suddenly Piett was blinking into the light of a blazing fire, and he looked around as his sight cleared. 

Three Rebel pilots, clad in their eye watering orange flight suits, were gathered around the fire. One was working on a jury rigged piece of equipment that looked like it had been taken from an X-Wing console.

One was standing, hands on his hips, glaring down at him.

The last one was kneeling by Piett himself with an open med kit, and it was he who had removed the blindfold. 

He was lying on a pile of Imperial issue blankets--they must have raided his downed lamda then--- and one more covered him from the waist down to ward off the chill of the night air. He found himself surprised at their rather humane treatment. He’d heard terrible stories of Imperial officers captured by the Rebels. Though, he reminded himself, propaganda was a nasty thing, and both sides could be guilty of it.

His bound wrists were attached by a short length chain to a metal post driven deeply into the earth. 

Beyond his restraints however, they had treated him remarkably well. 

“Thanks so much for shooting us down,” commented the standing one. 

“Oh give it a rest, Hobbie,” sighed the man kneeling by him. “And it was only you. Who knows which of his guys got Anton and me? Right now the main thing is figuring out how the hell to get off this damn moon. None of us have the supplies to last long. Captain, I’m Sanders. Anton is over there trying to find a way to communicate, and the one with the attitude is Hobbie. What’s your name?”

Piett considered him as the man reached for his head, and he jerked it instinctively.

“Sorry. I’m just changing the bandage. You took a really nasty knock. You’ve been unconscious for about 8 hours.”

_ Stars. Did the Executor know where he was? Did they care? Veers would, but Vader…..Piett wasn’t sure if they would be looking for him. If they even knew he was alive.  _

“I….would rather not give you my name. I hope you can understand. ‘Captain’ will do.”

Anton paused in his work to stare at him as Hobbie and Sanders exchanged a look.

“So you’re important, then,” Anton said knowingly. “You think we might know who you are.”

This was not the time to discover that Rebel pilots might be more intelligent than they gave them credit for. 

“Excellent,” commented Hobbie. “ you do know that when we all get back to the Alliance, they’ll find out pretty quick who you are.”

Piett sighed slightly. “Even so, it won’t do any of you any good. You ought to know by now that the Imperial forces rarely, if ever, negotiate for prisoners.”

“Heartless bastards,” muttered Anton.

Piett’s mouth quirked in spite of himself as Sanders carefully removed the old bandage and checked his head wound.

“I did not say it was always the  _ best _ policy. Just fact.”

“The bleeding’s stopped,” Sanders said in satisfaction, opening a fresh bandage.

“How long will our supplies last?” Piett asked, turning his mind to the current situation, rather than speculating on life as a Rebel prisoner. 

Hobbie chuckled.

“I love Imperial arrogance sometimes. You say that as though you were our Captain.  _ ‘Our’ _ ? What makes you think we’ll waste any on  _ you _ , Imp?”

“ _ Sithspit _ , Hobbie, we’re not  _ them _ , for kriff’s sake! Honestly, I’m not going to deprive a wounded man of food and water, no matter what side he’s on!”

Hobbie looked as though he’d been smacked in the face and he sat down slowly.

“No….I didn’t mean…” he stopped and looked at Piett. “Look, I’m sorry, it’s just hard to think of any of you as anything other than…..”

“Heartless bastards?” supplied Piett, and Sanders chuckled above him.

“I like you, Captain. Can I check your knee now?”

“Are you a medic as well as a pilot?” Piett asked curiously.

Sanders smiled at him. “I started my training as a medic actually. Then...after Scarif...I joined up with the Alliance as a pilot.”

Piett took this in as the man carefully felt around the joint.

“Wait…..you were training as an  _ Imperial _ medic?”

“Yep.”

“Well. All right then…” he broke off and hissed as his knee let him know about its abuse. 

“Yes, sorry about that, sir, but lucky for you, I think it’s only a sprain.”

No chance of an escape then. Piett tried to recall any information they had on this particular little moon. 

“I’m reasonably sure this moon has decent water resources,” he commented as Sanders repacked the med kit. Imperial issue, Piett saw.

“We’re going to look in the morning,” Anton replied. “Kriffing hell!” He exclaimed in frustration, throwing a tool at the ground.

“I think I need a break from this. And we need a power source if we’re going to get a signal out.”

“What about the lamda?” Piett asked trying to ignore the increased throbbing in his head.

“What about it?” Hobbie asked in a surly tone.

“Our power sources there are fairly well shielded,” Piett was not very successful at keeping the superior pride out of his tone and Hobbie’s eyes narrowed. “You may be able to attach your comms to the shuttle’s power.”   
  


“You’re lucky you got out, Captain. Your shuttle was on fire when we found you. Could have left you there.”

Piett held his gaze steadily, and Hobbie flushed and looked away. “We wouldn’t have…” he mumbled.

“How bad was the fire? Because when I say well shielded, I do mean it,” Piett continued.

The throbbing was localizing behind his left eye and  _ please Force _ not now. A migraine would be almost unbearable with a concussion.

“I have to ask Captain, why are you so eager to help us with this?” Anton asked, rising. “It will mean we hand you over to our people.”

“As you have said,” Piett responded, squinting in the firelight now as an invisible hand twisted a red hot wire behind his left eye. “The Alliance is not the Empire. Or should I expect to be interrogated?”

_ Possible, he supposed. Once they knew who he was….. _

But it was Hobbie surprisingly who looked ill at that. “ _ No _ . We’d make sure….”

“Then I’d much rather live captured, than die here.  _ Force _ .”

That last slipped out as the red hot poker became white and he was temporarily blinded.

“Captain?” Sanders sounded concerned. “I don’t have a scanner---is there an internal injury…?”   
  


“No,” Piett ground out. “I…..am prone to…..migraines and….” his stomach heaved. 

He managed to roll to the side in time as he retched helplessly. Shooting him in the head would be a mercy.

At last the white crucible abated enough for him to roll back, though his bound hands made it more difficult.

“Sorry,” he panted. “Rather inconvenient timing. Concussion brought it on…nothing for it.”

“We only have three painkillers, I’m afraid,” said Sanders sympathetically. 

  
  
“Wouldn’t do much,” Piett agreed, knowing he needed his meds which were on the Lady. Another surge of pain and he lost track of time.

“....don’t really care. I’m the closest we have to a doctor and I’m telling you, it’s real. Glare at me all you want, I’m doing it.”

The Captain could feel hands at his wrists, and suddenly he was free and able to roll completely onto his back, which brought some relief as the tension in his shoulders was relieved as well. 

“Thank you,” he gasped, moving one arm up to cover his eyes.

They hadn’t had to do that. Could have just let him suffer. He was grateful to have fallen into the hands of decent Rebels. 

The rest of the night was a miserable haze, but through it all he was aware that Sanders was with him, giving him water once he could keep it down and wiping his face from sweat. Somewhere in there he was at last released into either sleep or unconsciousness.

When he became aware once more, it was daylight. The fire was still blazing as this moon was cold, and they had clearly kept it going through the night. They’d moved him, he realized. He was lying as close to it as was safe, and not only was there a blanket covering him, but three Rebel flight jackets as well. He moved a hand out from under the blanket to touch one. 

He found himself wondering if the situation had been reversed, would the Empire have treated a Rebel Captain with this much consideration? Likely not. He knew what he would do personally, but could sadly not speak for the rest of the Imperial forces. 

Across the way, Hobbie was sitting sideways to him, and it was apparently his turn to tinker with the comms equipment. The other two weren’t in sight.

What  _ was _ in sight was a very large and completely silent creature, that looked much like a lizard/cat of some sort, sprinting from its cover to leap toward the Rebel pilot.

Piett kicked out of his coverings, staggering to his feet and the knee was buckling, but he managed to tackle Hobbie to the ground, drawing the man’s holstered blaster as he did so and firing into the face of the creature in mid leap.

It collapsed on top of him (should have seen that coming) and it was  _ heavy _ . But dead.

He shoved at the carcass as Hobbie moved out from beneath him, and then the Rebel joined his efforts and shoved the dead animal off of him. Piett rolled to his knees and regretted it immediately, but Hobbie had an arm around him before he could fall, and helped him back to the blanket pile.

And only then, when Piett was sitting, his bad leg stretched out, did both of them look at the blaster in his hand. 

Hobbie stiffened very slightly and their eyes met. Piett wondered what sort of Imperial captain he was that it hadn’t occurred to him to use it against the Rebel. He allowed the weapon to flip in his hand so that the grip was facing the pilot.

Slowly he took it and holstered the blaster.

“So….thank you for saving my life,” Hobbie said. “Um, are you ok?”

“Think so,” Piett told him. “You?”   
  


And Hobbie suddenly grinned at him. “Yeah. I have to say, Captain, that tackle wasn’t bad, given that I have to have at least fifty pounds on you.”   
  


“Thank you, I think,” Piett returned. “But I need to ask the question--are there more of those things? Because that was stalking you in broad daylight. Where are your friends?”

He watched the pilot’s face change into horror. “Oh shavit. They went to look for water…”

But he was interrupted by shouts, and the other two Rebel pilots came running out of the trees toward them.

“We have to go now!” Anton exclaimed, panting, and then he slowly straightened. “Kriff. One found you as well?”

Hobbie nodded. “Our Captain here shot it. Saved me.”

The other two swivelled their heads to stare at him and he shrugged, uncomfortable at their scrutiny. 

“Contrary to popular belief, we are not all monsters, you may recall?” Piett said. “And as to moving, where would we go? I think open ground is better and we already have a fire going to help ward them off.”

“He’s got a point,” said Sanders. 

“He’s also not in charge,” said Anton, rolling his eyes. “Because he’s our  _ prisoner _ .”

The three looked at each other.

“Ok, no offense, Captain, but we need to talk privately about this,” said Sanders, pulling the binders off of his belt.

Piett sighed. “Really? I can’t go anywhere very fast.”

“You moved pretty well to save me,” Hobbie mumbled.

At least Sanders had the grace to look apologetic as he cuffed him to the stake again. 

“We’ll be back in a moment.”   
  


“Well I’ll just have to hope I don’t get eaten, then,” Piett responded dryly. 

And he really didn’t care for being helpless out in the open while the others conferred about 25 yards away.

They were back in a fairly short amount of time after much arm gesturing.

“We’re staying here,” announced Sanders.

“And you can stop looking so smug,” Hobbie grumbled at Piett, then shivered.

_ Well. It was rather hard not to at the moment. _

“You should take your jackets back,” Piett said, noting this. “And, ah, thank you for that by the way. Apologies for....”

“Getting a migraine?” Anton asked, clearly amused as they all shrugged on their flight jackets. “Yes, that was so inconsiderate of you.”

Piett found himself smiling. 

He was crashed on a cold moon with a concussion and cuffed as a Rebel prisoner. And he was  _ smiling _ at said Rebels. Good thing Ozzel couldn’t see him at the moment. Or Lord Vader. 

“We should collect plenty of wood to keep the fire going during the night,” Piett said after a moment. “And has someone checked the power source on the lamda?”

The three pilots glanced at each other and suddenly grinned.

“Kriff, but I just want to salute right now. Do you have some power we’re not aware of, Captain?”

Piett was puzzled. “As in….the Force?”

"No, just you have this _command_....." Sanders trailed off.

And Hobbie was abruptly quite interested. “You know about that too, eh?”

_ Too? _

“I’m aware of its existence,” he said carefully.

“No.” Hobbie shook his head, looking at him thoughtfully, “you said that like someone who  _ knows _ .”

Piett raised an eyebrow at him.

“Leave it, Hobbie. He’s right, we need to get wood.”   
  


“You do though,” the pilot pursued, “I mean, we know because Luke…”

“Shut up, Der----Hobbie!”

_ Oho. Of course. Rogue Squadron. They knew Luke Skywalker. The pilot who was rapidly becoming the bane of Piett’s existence. Well. Outside of Ozzel. _

Shooting him suspicious glances, the three moved off once more.

“Really?” he called. “This is like leaving bait on a hook.”

“Kriff it,” Anton sighed. “I’ll stay.”

He and Piett regarded each other for a few minutes.

_ Well, they didn’t need to waste time.  _

“I think I could make it to my shuttle with your help,” he told the Rebel. “We could see if that power source….”

“Shut up,” the man sighed. “Just…”

Piett raised his eyebrows, but subsided as the man was clearly wrestling with himself.

“Look,” Anton said at last, raising rueful green eyes to him, “sorry for being rude, but you just... I don’t know what it is about you, but we’re in this weird situation and you’re all competent and officer--ee and….”   
  


“Officeree?” Piett asked, with a quirk of his mouth. 

“Yeah, and what you’re saying makes sense, it does, I just can’t put together why you’d want to help us out when you’re our prisoner….”

“And you quite understandably, don’t trust me,” Piett finished.

“And that! Right there. All reasonable and calm.  _ Force _ .”

He pondered again, and then abruptly rose and undid the chain from the binders. “Okay. We’re going to check it out. But you’re staying in the binders. And you lead the way.”

That was going to be a bit of a feat with his knee, but the man was willing and Piett knew he shouldn’t push him too much.

“All right.”

He struggled to his feet. His knee held him---just-- and they moved slowly toward the wrecked shuttle which was about 60 yards away. Much further, Piett could see the remains of one of the X-Wings.

As they approached he could see that they had indeed saved his life. The fire would have killed him certainly. He paused, panting, and put his hands to the side of the shuttle to catch his breath. 

“A bit far,” Anton said apologetically. 

“It’s good to check though,” Piett said, pushing off. “How can we get in?”

“View port’s gone completely.”

Yes, he could see that. But also….

“I’m going to need your help to get in there,” Piett told him. “My knee won’t handle that.”

He eyed the crumpled front of the shuttle for hand holds.

“Don’t suppose…” he began holding out his hands.

“Nope. I like you, sir, and you apparently saved Hobbie, but I’m not risking it. You can manage. This is your idea.”

He knelt to help give Piett a leg up, and he managed to grip a bit of metal to haul himself over the lip of the former viewport and into the shuttle. The acrid smell of melted plastics met him along with a general metallic scent that spoke of profound damage. He moved back into the hold and picked his way carefully around the twisted metal plates until he reached his goal.

“Force it’s colder in here than it is outside!” exclaimed the Rebel pilot, moving more swiftly to join him.

Piett had noted that given that his hands were red with the cold, and even his gaberwool wasn’t keeping it out. 

He found the panel he was looking for. “Do you have a screwdriver?” he asked. The panel was damaged, but between the two of them, he thought they might be able to haul it off. 

Anton dug at his belt for the tools he’d brought. “Here you are.”

And Piett, with less trouble than he had anticipated, managed to unscrew the panel.

As expected it was difficult to pull off, but they managed at last, falling back to the deck as it parted suddenly.

“Kriff!” Piett swore as his knee flared. “Help me up, will you?” he asked, as Anton came over to him.

He examined the power coupling and began to tinker with some of the wires.

“So are you in engineering?” the Rebel pilot asked with interest.

Piett shot him an inquiring look.

“It’s just…..I’m not aware of too many Senior Captains that do their own maintenance.”

“I don’t. I just...tinker sometimes. And…..my commander makes me help him with his shuttle on occasion.”

_ Force knew why, but there had been three occasions now, when Lord Vader had ordered him to help with some obscure adjustments to his TIE advanced. _

“That’s a strange thing to do.”

“You have no idea,” Piett sighed. “But it’s useful right now. I think….yes, I do believe we have a power source, pilot.”

They had to pause several times on the way back to the camp and finally, without saying anything, Anton moved to his side and took his arm in support. 

“Thank you,” Piett said briefly, telling himself it was a good thing they found the power source working, and the pain in his knee was worth it.

Sanders and Hobbie were stacking another bundle of sticks and branches near their fire and looked up as they approached.

“What were you two doing then?” Hobbie called, as Anton helped Piett lower himself to the blankets.

“We have a power source,” Anton answered proudly. “I think we can get the comms panel hooked up to it.”

The other two stared at them.

“Well, wow. That’s great,” Sanders said. He glanced up. “Will we have time to get started at least before it’s dark?”

“You should,” Piett said, trying to still his shudders.  _ Kriff _ he was so cold. Even the walk back hadn’t helped. The binders were like ice on his wrists. 

Sanders was looking at him critically. “Ok, first though we should all eat something and make sure the Captain here doesn’t get hypothermic.” He fed some more branches to the fire and Piett welcomed the flare of heat. 

“Come sit on the crate, sir,” Sanders said, and that sounded great, but Piett was pretty sure his knee was finished for the day. 

His pride warred with his desire to survive and he sighed.

“I….would appreciate that, but...I’ll need help.”

“Oh sure.” Simple, no gloating over his inability to stand, and Sanders came to give him assistance.

“Captain, your  _ hands _ .” He shot a glare at Anton as he helped Piett move to the upturned crate closer to the fire.

The other pilot raised his own hands in defense. “Sorry! We were working on the lamda…”

These Rogues continued to surprise him. Sanders was not only removing the binders again, he was stripping off his own flight gloves. 

“Here sir, get those on for a bit.”

“What about you?” Piett asked, accepting them gratefully. 

“Due respect sir, but ah, there’s not much to you. I’ll be fine for a while.”

His shivering decreased, though Piett thought he would feel cold until he was standing on the Lady once more. Then he recalled that he may not be doing that again. Ever.

“Here, sir,” said Hobbie, handing him half a ration bar, which Piett accepted quietly. 

Would he see Veers ever again? He accepted that Lord Vader would not be too bothered and Ozzel would be delighted no doubt. But his Lady….

“Something wrong, sir?” asked Anton, standing nearby and eating his ration.

“Ah…” Piett sat up a bit more and tried to clear his expression. He  _ was _ tired if he was letting himself slip.

“No, apologies. Just….thinking.”   
  


“About how to get our blasters?” asked Hobbie, suspiciously,

“ _ Force _ , Hobbie the man saved your life, what more do you want?”

“I was thinking about the consequences of being a Rebel prisoner,” Piett snapped, temper finally getting the better of him. 

And an awkward silence fell. 

_ Kriff. He shouldn’t have lost control. He was the senior officer here after all, and these Rebels shouldn't see him slip.  _

“Look,” he said after a beat, “I don’t look forward to it--how can I? But….equally, we all need to get off this moon. So, can you trust that I really am not stupid enough to try to escape with a bum knee and a concussion, into certain hypothermia or death by lizard-cat?”

They all looked at each other and at last, Hobbie surprised him by speaking. 

“We can do that, Captain. And….I’m sorry, sir. I….well these two will tell you I run my mouth.”

“Ain't  _ that _ the truth,” Anton agreed.

“Thank you, Hobbie,” Piett said as Sanders handed him a ration of water. “I think if we all work on getting the comm working, we might have it ready by nightfall.”

“Look sir, that knee…” began Sanders.

“I am aware, believe me,” Piett interrupted him, “but if you could brace it with something, I think it will go faster to have me help Anton here connect things. I may not be a mechanic, but I know the shuttle reasonably well.”

He could see they were striving to trust him, but there was conflict on their faces. Understandable.

“Look, I give you my word, swear on my ship, that I will not try to sabotage anything, all right? Is that acceptable?”

“And which ship was that again?” asked Hobbie slyly, with a grin.

Piett gave him his best Imperial eyebrow.

“A good one.”


	92. The Tales of Captain Piett Part 2: The Adventure with the Rogues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We find out what happened with Piett and the Rogues that allowed him to return to the Lady. Piett tracks down the pilots who saved his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had TREMENDOUS fun with this. I shall definitely have some more time with Piett and the Rogues---whether as the Admiral or the Captain, I'll have to decide. 
> 
> In the meantime, I hope you enjoy!

_ Previously: Piett offers to help hook up the comms board to the power source in the shuttle. Thus, the Rebels can contact their people and get off the moon they've all crashed upon.  _

“All right, sir,” Sanders said, “but I think you should have a pain killer if we’re doing this.”

“I won’t refuse that,” Piett agreed, and in short order his knee was braced with a repurposed flight harness and they were all making their way to the lamda, Anton carrying the comm board and Hobbie and Sanders on either side of Piett to help him along.

“I’m feeling rather short,” he sighed, and both pilots laughed, each of them having at least a good six inches on him. 

“Hate to break it to you sir, but you  _ are _ ,” Sanders chuckled and Piett smiled. 

Hells, he was liking these boys with their banter and easy humor. And their basic decency. How he hated war. He would cheerfully have had these men on his own ship in a different context.

Once inside, he and Anton got to work. Several hours and numerous small burns later for both of them, the comms panel suddenly glowed to life.

A collective cheer from the Rebel pilots and he sat back to stretch his leg out, rolling down the sleeves of his henley and shrugging his jacket back on. He’d needed the freedom of movement, but he was cold again now, and not all of it from the climate. Because now it was real. And he was going to an uncertain future without his beautiful ship or his friend.

And a silence settled over them as the other three recalled his presence as well.

“Well,” he said, striving for calm and steadiness. “Go on. Comm your people. Because we’ll need to get back and get that fire built up again so those kriff awful creatures don’t eat us in our sleep.”

“You can’t give us orders, sir,” Anton said, but there was no heat there, and the pilot gave him a small rueful smile.

A beat.

“He’s right, though,” commented Sanders, but none of them moved to the board.

Hobbie, who had been cleaning his blaster, suddenly set it down.

“Oh hells, who are we kidding? I don’t want to turn you over. You….I can’t believe I’m saying this, but the Empire could use more officers like you. Maybe it has them, I don’t know. I’d like to think that if any of us fell into your hands, you’d be decent. I think we should let him go.”

Anton and Sanders stared at him open mouthed.

_ Let him… had he heard that correctly? _

“How though?” Sanders asked, thoughtfully.

“ _ Seriously _ ?” Anton said, looking between his friends. “Isn’t that treason or something?”

Hobbie snorted. “Hardly. It’s….practical. And prevents the waste of a good officer. Force knows the Empire needs those.”

Piett’s mind was having a difficult time wrapping around this.

“I don’t…..”

“Look. We’ll comm our people. Give them a head start to get here. Then, he comms his people and they can show up after we’re gone.”

“That could work,” Anton nodded. “But he’s going to be on his own for awhile. With those lizard-cat things.”

“Gentlemen.” Piett said firmly. “ _ He _ is right here. Are you seriously suggesting…?”

He trailed off at three utterly sincere faces watching him. 

“Can you manage for a few hours on your own, sir?” asked Sander seriously. “I’d leave you a blaster, but there would be some question about why you have a Rebel blaster….”

_ Could he manage…..? They were offering him his life, everything he cared about... He could see his Lady again. Stand by Veers’ side and argue over caf and tactics. Even work with Lord Vader... _

“I can manage,” he replied, “but I confess I have a hard time believing….”

“Captain.” Hobbie was quite serious. “It’s the right thing to do.”

“Thank you,” he said quietly, feeling weak with relief. 

Accordingly, they made their way back after Anton had made jubilant contact with the Rebels. Apparently, they could expect rescue in 8 hours.

“We’ll head back in four hours to comm your ship, sir,” Sanders told him as they settled by the fire once more. Hobbie and Anton fed it into roaring power, and then all of them sat closely together for warmth as darkness closed in. 

The Rebels had their blasters out and ready in case the lizard-cats returned.

“Can I ask you something?” Piett said, as Sanders redid the brace on his knee. 

“Sure, Captain.”

“Why orange?”

All three Rebel pilots burst into laughter.

“Oh Captain. The question all of us ask at one point or the other.”

“There are quite a few theories out there,” said Anton. “There’s the ‘it will help you be found easier’ theory.”

“Yes,” Hobbie put in, warm at his left shoulder and Piett was grateful to be ensconced between the two of them. They were sitting on the blankets and another was draped around his shoulders as he didn’t have a flight jacket. “That’s the one they give the new recruits. Another popular theory is that it’s Madine’s favorite color and he picked it out.”

“Madine?” Piett asked, vaguely feeling he’d heard that name before.

“That would be General Madine,” said Sanders coming to sit down by Anton. 

_ Ah yes, that’s why it was familiar. _

“And I like that theory, given the man’s utter lack of taste in general,” remarked Anton.

The three of them all laughed.

“Or, there’s the likely real reason,” said Hobbie once they had recovered. ‘Which is that it was the cheapest fabric the Alliance could afford.”

Piett nodded. 

“Less popular theories include it’s Mon Mothma’s favorite color…” said Anton.

“Or that we represent the flames of the Rebel Starbird,” added Sanders.

Piett raised his eyebrows at that one.

  
  
“Yeah, I gagged on that too,” Hobbie agreed. “Some people are nauseatingly romantic.”

Piett chuckled. 

“Can I ask you something, Captain, now that you’re not actually our prisoner?”

“Possibly,” he answered cautiously.

“What ship are you on?” Hobbie asked hopefully. 

Piett smiled at him. 

“Well that one is not an answer I can give, Hobbie.”

“Worth a shot.”

“And I suppose we can’t know your name either?” Sanders said.

“I wish I could, believe me,” Piett said, shivering a little and feeling amused when the pilots on either side of him leaned a little closer to share body heat. “But you are right in thinking that you would know who I am. I think for all our sakes, we need to keep this a secret.”

“Damn.”

They talked and shared stories of both sides until it was time for Piett to contact the Lady. He was very ready to get Henley to deal with his knee by the time they made it to the shuttle once more and he punched in the code. 

He could have been mistaken, but it was possible the bridge crew cheered in the background as the comms officer alerted Commander Harris (and thank the Force it was him not Ozzel) that their Captain was alive. 

He was feeling properly worn out when they returned with the knowledge that a shuttle would be coming for him two hours after the Rebels left. 

All of them felt the weight of this, and he was deeply grateful no lizard cats showed up to attack—-they were all rather exhausted. 

“I hate to say this,” Piett told the others as grey dawn began to assert itself, “but I need to get out of sight before your friends come.”

Half of him was still wondering if they were actually going to let him go now that the moment was here. 

He shouldn’t have doubted. 

“We can help you into the tree line there, Captain,” Sanders said, and all of them rose, Hobbie helping Piett up. His knee folded completely, and he would have fallen if not for the pilot. 

“Painkiller I think, sir. I’m sorry I can’t do more,” Sanders told him, applying the hypo and Piett managed to support himself, accepting that he was over straining his much abused knee. 

They made their way to the trees and then were left to look at each other, each man realizing that the likelihood they would ever meet again was almost impossible. 

And Piett was sorry for that. 

“Gentlemen,” he said, clearing his throat, “you don’t know what it means to me to be able to return to my ship. Thank you, for that, and for saving my life.” He held out his hand, and each of them shook it. 

“It was….an honor to meet you,” he said, and Hobbie handed him a long metal piece. 

“For defense against the lizard cats if you need, sir,” he stated. 

Piett smiled. 

“Thank you.”

“Captain,” Sanders said, “I think I speak for all of us—-your men are damn lucky to have you, sir. I would serve with you in a Kessel second were circumstances different.”

And he saluted, the other two swiftly following his lead. 

Piett’s throat felt funny as he returned the gesture. 

“Mutual, gentlemen.”

And then they left, Hobbie throwing him one more glance over his shoulder. 

Piett watched as a battered Rebel transport landed about thirty minutes later, and the Rogues were greeted with back slaps and relief. The three pilots all looked to his hiding spot as they boarded. 

“Safe stars,” he thought at them. 

It was difficult to watch that ship leave because he suddenly felt more alone than he ever had; and as he limped heavily from the trees, he had to work to quell the fear that maybe a ship wouldn’t come for him. 

He seated himself by the fire, watching for lizard cats and pondering many things about the nature of this conflict. 

His relief was profound when he heard the familiar sound of lamda engines, and in short order, the ramp was coming down, and a very welcome figure was hurrying out ahead of the medics. 

“Kriffing  _ hells _ , Firmus, don’t do that to me again!” Veers exclaimed, moving to grasp him by the forearms and grinning broadly. “I’m told the bridge crew lost all decorum when they heard you were alive.”

Piett returned his friend’s smile. “How did you get yourself assigned to a search and rescue mission?” he asked as Veers took in his knee and then the dead lizard cat. 

“Asked,” Veers said, looking down at him and giving the Captain his arm to lean on as they made their way to the shuttle and the medics. 

“I see you have stories to tell. Your men?”

“Didn’t make it,” Piett said quietly. 

“I’m sorry,” Veers replied sincerely, and at last Piett was in a warm shuttle and lying down while the medics did their work. Veers seated himself near the head of his grav sled and leaned in to look him in the eye. 

“Don’t think I didn’t notice that your knee is braced with a Rebel flight harness,  _ Captain Piett _ ,” the General said softly.

Piett gave him a bland look. “Found it.”

“Mhmm. That lizard cat thing was shot. Where’s your blaster?”

“I could have lost it.”

“You didn’t have it on you when you left the ship—I know.”   
  


Piett held his friend’s gaze. Max leaned closer for the coup de grace.

“Did you manage to do this to yourself as well, Firmus?” he hissed very softly, touching the wrist that was resting on Piett’s chest at the moment.

He glanced down swiftly at the light binder bruising, and Veers tugged the cuff of his uniform to cover it for him.

He sighed lightly. “I promise to tell you everything, Max.”

“Damn right you will,” his friend said, sitting back and patting his shoulder. “Rest now, Captain.”

  
  


****

“ _ Hobbie _ ?” the princess exclaimed with a wide smile. “ _ Hobbie _ managed to keep a secret like that?”

Piett nodded, finishing his drink. 

“And I never knew him by anything other than his call sign. So when I glimpsed him, I had the Lady pull up his file and behold: Commander Derek Klivian. Serving on the Guardian and visiting a friend who happens to be in my squadron, serving on the Victory.”

“Really?” Veers asked, deeply interested and keen to meet the men who had saved his friend’s life. 

“Yes,” Piett said, “a Captain Jackson Sanders. I’ve ordered both of them to the Lady to receive a commendation for valor from the Admiral himself.”   
  


“Firmus.” Veers was delighted. “You  _ have _ to let me be there.”

“What of the other one---Anton?” her highness asked, yawning and reaching her arm around Piett to get more comfortable on his chest. Veers smirked at his friend and mouthed ‘teddy bear’ at him. 

The Admiral rolled his eyes. “I couldn’t find a record for him. I’ve sent a request to Coruscant to see about the Alliance records. The Lady is sifting through those files at the moment.”

“I repeat, friend of mine….”

“Fine, yes,” Piett said, waving a hand. “You need to be nice, Max. They did save my life.”

“They also took you prisoner.”

“Very humanely. You know if it had been some more…. _aggressive_ Rebels…”

“Don’t,” said the princess, visibly tightening her arm around her Admiral. “I don’t like to think about how close you came…. _ stars _ .”

Piett leaned his head down to hers. “Sorry my dear, but I’m just so grateful to this day that it was them…”

_ Veers was deeply looking forward to this meeting. _

“All right, then, your highness, I can escort you to your quarters before you fall asleep here…”

She sighed and sat up reluctantly.

“...and I will see you tomorrow, Firmus.”

And he helped the petite brunette to her feet before both of them gave the Admiral his quarters back.

  
  


**** 

Veers was significantly early, but he was also ridiculously keen for this reunion.

_ “Gleeful,” Piett had told him at breakfast, pointing a spoon at him. “You are oozing unholy glee, General and I don’t know that it’s all that becoming to the leader of the Thundering Herd.” _

_ Veers had snorted around his vlaronberry toast. “You are such a hypocrite, Admiral. Did you give them any preparation for who you are and why they’re getting commendations?” _

_ “....no.” _

_ “Then I will enjoy my glee and you can pretend not to, but we both know you are.” _

So Veers paced slowly around Piett’s tidy, elegant office, appreciating the fact that his friend had a few holo images on his desk and recalling a time where he’d had none. Now though…..now, there was one of Max himself near his friend and both were relaxed and grinning at each other. The Lady was responsible for these, Veers realized. Only she would have the angles and access. The princess smiled blindingly out at him in another image, and near that was a picture of a group of them in…..Lord Vader’s quarters. Ah yes, this must have been after a dinner.

He looked up as the doors chimed and he wondered where Firmus was.

“Lady?” he asked, and the doors hissed open to admit two pilots, both in immaculate uniform and both doing their best to hide their puzzlement at why they were here.

“Come in gentlemen,” Veers said, studying them.

“Um….sorry, sir, do we have the right office?” the commander asked. “We were told to meet the Admiral…”

“You have the right office,” Veers assured him. “The Admiral was delayed, but should be here shortly.”  _ Right, Firmus? _ _  
  
_

The two men stood to attention, but he could tell both of them were dying to know why they were standing in the Fleet Admiral’s office. 

The commander broke first. “Sir. Permission to speak freely.”   
  


“Go ahead,” said Veers coolly, already enjoying himself immensely.

“Sir, can you enlighten us as to why we’re here for a commendation? I’ve never met the Admiral sir, and I can’t help but wonder if this was a mistake. I was just out in this sector visiting the Captain here. We haven’t ah, done anything to earn a commendation for valor, that we know of.”

_ Firmus, you crafty bastard. You really want to spring this on them. _

“I’m sure the Admiral will let you know,” Veers said.

“You seem...familiar sir,” said the Captain.

“He should,” came a new voice from behind them and Piett entered, carrying three small boxes and he strode to stand behind his desk and set them carefully down before looking up at the men standing crisply to attention at his entry. “That is General Maximilian Veers. Senior General for the army and commander of the Thundering Herd.”

The commander’s Adam’s apple moved visibly as he shot a swift look at Veers once more. He returned it with a raised eyebrow.

“Thank you both for coming. I’m sure you have questions,” Piett continued calmly, and Veers grinned internally as the pilots gave his friend the looks of men who had just been clobbered by a Gundark backhand. Recognition had dawned then. 

“ _ You _ ...I don’t believe it…” the Captain began, clearly wavering between wanting to smile and looking horrified. 

The commander was a little slower on the uptake. “Well,  _ stars _ . I never thought we’d see you again, sir. But I thought we were meeting the Fleet Admiral….”

“Klivian,” hissed the Captain. “He  _ is _ .”

And Piett had mercy on them, placing his hands behind his back and smiling. “Admiral Firmus Piett. I’m so very glad to finally meet you properly.”

“Son--of--a-- _ Hutt, _ ” the commander stated.

“ _ Hobbie _ !” exclaimed the Captain, scandalized.

Klivian shook himself. “Ah, apologies Admiral…. _ Force _ .”   
  


If someone had dropped an AT-AT on him, the commander couldn’t look more stunned.

Veers was enjoying life immensely at the moment.

“I see some things haven’t changed,” Piett said dryly.

“No sir,” sighed the Captain. Then he brightened and smiled. “But….well sir, I can’t tell you how good it is to see you. I had half a mind to drag you with us after all that day, just to make sure you stayed alive. I have to admit it’s weighed on me these last four years.”

“Well, I’m very grateful you didn’t as things might have looked very different,” Piett replied coming around to the front of his desk. “Shall we do introductions properly at last? As said, I’m Firmus Piett, Admiral of the Fleet. And this my ship.”

“Captain Jackson Sanders,” the man replied, grasping his hand firmly to shake it. “She is indeed a ‘good one’ sir.”

Hobbie was shaking his head. “We had the Captain of the Executor. I don’t believe it.  _ Darth Vader’s  _ second in command! Yes, I can see why you didn’t want to tell us all of that.”

Piett held his hand out. “No hard feelings I hope?”

“No sir,” Hobbie replied, shaking his hand. “I’ll just quietly die of humiliation when I get back to my quarters. Derek Klivian, by the way. That’s my actual name.”

Piett laughed. “Yes. I’ve seen the files now. And bygones, Commander. After all, I can understand why the Rogues would be careful around an Imperial Captain.”

Sanders looked at him sharply. “Did you know…?”

“I put it together, when Hobbie here said ‘Luke’. We’d been hunting for him already by that point.”

Veers decided to interpose at this moment, moving to hold his own hand out.

“Thank you for being decent to the Admiral. I am possibly more grateful for that than he is.”

Piett gave him a look as Sanders shook his hand.

“Of course, sir.”

“And you. Klivian, you’re a bit of an ass.”

The pilot had the grace to look abashed and was blushing deeply. Veers ignored Piett’s softly muttered  _ ‘Max’ _ .

“That’s true, General.”

  
  
“And I would have had to gut you, had you actually done any harm to my friend.”

“ _ General _ .” Warning tones from Piett.

“Seeing however, as you saved his life, I’m inclined to think you might deserve this commendation. You’re still insane. You fly with Commander Skywalker after all. But…”

And Veers held his hand out. Klivian was rattled, but shook it.

“Um, thank you, sir?”

“I apologize for my tardiness,” the Admiral said more seriously. “I was reviewing the file that the La--that I was given for Captain Anton Fretchek. I was very sorry to see he was killed in action.”

The two men grew sober as well. 

“Yes sir, at Endor,” Sanders told him. Piett nodded.

“I will see to it that his family gets this then,” his friend said, gesturing to the boxes behind him. 

“Thank you, sir.” Klivian paused. “Sir, permission to ask you a question?”   
  


“Of course,” Piett said, gesturing with a ‘go on’ motion.

“Why are we getting this again? Because…..”   
  


Piett gave Veers a broad smile. 

“You are receiving a commendation, Commander, for saving the life of your superior officer. Further for behaving with the kind of honor and integrity that we would like to see in every member of the New Republic forces.”

“Ah, but….you  _ weren’t _ our superior officer at the time...”

“No indeed. Which makes your actions all the more impressive.”

Both men were flushed slightly. Piett turned and took out the first medal and pinned it to Sanders’ uniform. 

“I have not forgotten, Captain Sanders, that you stayed up all night to help an Imperial officer through a bad migraine. It was awful enough, but it could have been so much worse. Thank you.”

“Of course, sir.”

Veers wanted to give the man a second medal for that kindness.

“And Commander, I realize that you and I had a rough start…”

Hobbie blushed deeper. Veers chuckled.

“But some things came back to me after we parted, and I’m not wrong in thinking that it was you who actually pulled me out of the shuttle am I?”

“I did, sir,” Klivian said, demeanor more serious.

“So really, there was never a chance you would have just ‘left me there’ was there?” Piett said, pinning the medal to the Commander’s chest, then raising a knowing eyebrow at him. 

“Please don’t remind me I said that, sir.  _ Force _ .”

Veers was giving him a very cold stare indeed.

“I promise, I wouldn’t have, General,  _ please _ stop looking like you’re about to remove my spleen.”

“Don’t scare the boy witless, Max, he doesn’t have much to spare,” Piett said with a sardonic glance in Klivian’s direction.

Sanders chuckled as the Commander sighed long sufferingly. 

“Now, gentlemen. I wonder how you might feel about seeing the bridge of the Lady? Given that you returned me to her in effect, it’s the least I can do.”

The Commander looked like he’d been given a birthday present. 

“The bridge where  _ Darth Vader _ stood? Where you were sir, when you ordered her between the Death Star and us at Endor? Kriff ye----”

“ _ Hobbie _ ,” groaned Sanders.

“Huge apologies, Admiral. I meant--Absolutely, sir.”

Piett smiled. “Then I would be most happy to take you there. And on the way, we can discuss whether or not you would care to transfer to the Executor.”

Veers grinned as he followed their group out of the office.

Having Klivian on board to terrify periodically would be delightful.


	93. Bets Have Consequences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Piett and Han bet on a dejarik game between Commander Fox and General Veers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I felt that I ought to pitch out a bit of fluff given the mass amounts of angst I've been writing. I hope you enjoy me giving our officers and their friends a little time off. But Piett.....anyone can tell you that betting with Solo is not a good idea....

The rancor paused, staring down its prey---a slavering wampa---and growled. But it didn’t move any further. It was deathly quiet as the two creatures stared at each other without moving a muscle.

“Oh _stars_ , Max, it’s a wampa. Just make the move,” Piett groaned from his spot on the sofa over to the side of the dejarik table. 

Veers did not even glance his way, his face impassive as he considered his opponent on the other side of the table. 

It was still strange for the Admiral to see Fox out of his armor and in regular Imperial uniform. Fox had expressed that preference and as the New Republic didn’t yet have the funds to issue new uniforms to its entire armed forces, it wasn’t hard to grant the request. That, and he served on the Lady. One of the conditions of their agreement when they joined forces with the Alliance, was that the Lady and her crew were keeping their Imperial look because this was Lord Vader’s flagship. The uniforms had meant something to his crew and still did. 

Fox was studying the board with just as much steel control as the General. 

And Piett was beginning to regret his life’s choices.

It had been two hours since this match started and he had placed a bet with Solo, both on the outcome of the game, and on which man would show any discernible emotion first. 

_Somehow_ , (and Piett blamed Solo, though the smuggler protested his innocence) Veers had learned of this bet, and so he and Fox had been even more assiduous than normal, in keeping their emotions off their faces. 

“You, Firmus, have only yourself to blame for placing bets with disreputable characters, based on your friend’s abilities.”

Veers said this with supreme control and Solo, pacing around the area, sighed.

“Always with the insults, General.”

“You don’t have to be here.”

The smuggler paused to glare. “I am _not_ walking out of a bet.”

“How high are the stakes of this ‘bet’?” Fox asked calmly as Veers at last moved the rancor to devour the wampa.

“Expensive,” Piett and Solo said together, then looked at each other.

“I’m grinning at your expense inside,” Veers said, still with no emotion on his face and Piett moaned, slumping a little more on the sofa, but being cautious not to disturb the girl asleep on his leg. 

“You realize, Solo,” he said, “that I have a handicap here, because I can’t pace to keep myself awake.”

“You _could_ ,” the infuriating Corellian responded with a grin, “You’re just a giant pushover when it comes to Leia, and that is your own fault.”  
  


“I feel there is a lot of blame casting in my direction this evening,” he replied in tired irritation. “And you deliberately tipped her toward me when she was falling asleep, don’t think I didn’t see that nudge.”

“And yet,” said Solo, moving around the area once more, “you allowed it, sir.”  
  


“Some would call those dirty tactics, Solo,” Piett told him acidly, tucking the throw more securely around his princess’s shoulders.

“If she hasn’t woken during this argument, Piett, I don’t see why you couldn’t slide out if you wanted to without waking her,” Veers, said as Fox considered his move and a space whale flickered into existence on the board.

Probably true, but she had just returned 12 hours previously from an exhausting diplomatic mission in the Mid-Rim and he hadn’t seen her for a while. She looked very peaceful too, so…

“I want you to appreciate the level of control it is taking me not to grin at you right now, Firmus,” Veers said, face set. “Or snort in a meaningful manner. So consider it done.”

  
  


Solo may have muttered something along the lines of ‘giant marshmallow’ in the background and Piett decided not to dignify that with his notice. 

“Feel free to express those things, General,” said Fox coolly.

“Oh no,” Veers said, still without tone or expression. _Damn him_ . “The one thing about this bet, which was not revealed was which of them bet _against_ me. So I have an investment in this now. But if you’re feeling tired, Commander, by all means….”

“No need to be rude, sir. And my secret is, I’m always tired. I’ve been tired for twenty years. I embrace that.”

_Well. Piett could relate there._

“Perhaps you could both give your attention to the game,” Piett said crossly. He couldn’t even get up to get another cup of tea. Hells, at this point, even caf appealed because he was _not_ losing to Solo. He’d long removed his cap and unlatched his tunic, but he was wishing he’d given in to the urge to remove his boots before his princess fell asleep on him. 

He was startled by a mug suddenly in front of his face, and it was proffered from behind the sofa he was slumped into.

“Never let it be said I did nothing for you,” Solo told him, smiling as Piett inhaled the scent of his favorite tea.

“Well. Thank you, Solo,” he said, feeling marginally better about the situation.  
  


“I do think the Rebellion really missed a trick though,” the man continued, moving to flop bonelessly into the armchair near the sofa. “We could have had this war won years ago, or at least brokered the alliance we’re all enjoying here much sooner.”  
  


Piett had a sudden feeling that he was about to have something else lobbed at him.

“If you’re thinking what I believe you are, Solo,” said Veers, “you may be on to something. Who knew that the steel spined Admiral of Death Squadron was so very susceptible to big brown eyes and unsolicited hugs?”

“Kriffing hell, Veers, really?”

Solo had on his most irritating grin.

“Exactly, General,” he nodded as Fox made a move.

_Finally. At this pace, they would be here all night._

“To be clear, _Solo_ ,” Piett clipped, “you are even more susceptible to those things given that you’re in love with her highness.”

“Hey,” the smuggler waved a nonchalant hand. “I absolutely and freely admit it. But, you will notice, only one of us is currently her pillow. If only we’d sent her aboard the Executor with orders to take the bridge with one glance.”

The Admiral rolled his eyes. 

“I don’t know Solo,” Veers commented as Fox’s space whale crushed a bantha. “You recall that within minutes of meeting her for the first time, where her highness was not inclined to like anything in Imperial uniform, the Admiral had her drinking tea.”

Fox managed to sigh without changing expression. _How? How was he so imperturbable?_ _  
  
_

“Fair,” the Corellian mused to himself. “Can you imagine, Admiral, if you two ever actually seriously disagreed on something?” He shuddered. “Unstoppable force meets immovable object.”

Piett smiled down at the brown head and ran a careful hand over her braid.

“I don’t imagine it, Solo, as it is highly unlikely to happen.”

_An idea had just occurred to him to try and get their unflappable dejarik players to break expressions._

“The General and I on the other hand…”

Veers went very still at the board and Fox watched him, eyes sharp but face calm. _Damn, they were both so very good._

“Which General?” the smuggler asked, confused. “Because now that His Darthness is going by that title with Fox’s guys, I’m confusing him and General Veers.”

“Veers of course,” said Piett with an ‘obviously’ implied in his voice. “I will always refer to my commanding officer with the title I used for years. Commander Fox has a different history and I can respect that.”

“Thank you, Admiral,” said Fox as Veers considered moving a Gundark.

“So hold on, are you telling me that you and the General sitting here have disagreed?”

“Firmus,” said Veers, managing to focus supremely on keeping his visage unperturbed. “I know what you’re doing and it is frankly, ungentlemanly of you.”

“I’m not sure what you mean, Max,” Piett said innocently, smiling at his friend as grey eyes met his. “I’m just passing the time. Telling Solo some stories.”

“Conduct unbecoming an officer,” Veers stated coldly.

Solo sighed loudly. “Now I’m torn. You dangle the deliciousness of a tale or two where you two--our dynamic duo--  
  


Piett snorted. “Really, Solo?”

“Not helping,” Veers said and Piett could tell he was clenching his teeth. 

“.....disagree with each other. On the other hand, what if this causes our players to break expression, thus losing me a bet?”

“And who was it you were concerned for, Solo?” asked Fox as Veers moved the Gundark.

He exchanged a look with Piett.

“You know I can’t say sir.”

“Bear in mind, Solo, that these two are ridiculously controlled and we’ll be here all night at this rate,” Piett told him. He shifted very carefully and the princess moved, snuggling into him more. 

“Kriff it, you’re right. Ok, story time. What do you and the General here disagree on?”

“Admiral Piett,” Veers said glacially as Fox pondered the board, “I’m rapidly becoming convinced that you may have bet against me here, given what you’re about to do.”

“ _Max_. Why would you say that?”

“Why would I….” Veers paused, and Piett was certain he was fighting a glare with every fibre of his being. “Because these stories are designed to get me to react. Thus, you bet that Fox is more imperturbable.”

“Which is true, General, given that I do not see the need to pass the time in this game by speaking at all.”

Piett grinned broadly at his friend as Fox said this, and Veers took a deep breath. 

“Commander Fox,” he said coolly, eyes not leaving Piett’s, “You are operating under a distinct advantage here as no one in this room could tell any stories of your past.”

“And if they did sir,” replied Fox with supreme unconcern, “I would still not allow them to get me to react.” He made his move.

“Happily, Solo,” Piett said as Veers turned his gaze back to the board, “I can honestly say that the General and myself have never disagreed on what may be termed, fundamental things. And despite the fact that he chose the army for reasons known only to himself, even that difference is not something we disagree about in any serious way.”

“Though we might after this, seeing as how the navy has lost all understanding of honor.….” Veers put in tonelessly, staring at the board. 

Piett allowed his smirk to be broad. 

“So. Currently one of our top disagreements is regarding our range scores….”

“Because contrary to the Doctor’s directives, which _I didn’t know about_ , may I add, the Admiral saw fit to join me last week, despite the fact that his shoulder should not have been put through that.”

“Ah. So you don’t think your lead is legitimate, given that?” Solo asked.

“No, that’s not the issue,” Piett responded, “he thinks _my_ lead shouldn’t be legitimized due to that factor.”

The Corellian laughed. “Oh General. I see why that would bother you.”

Piett could see from the set of his friend’s spine that he was keen to round on both of them. 

“The discussion is ongoing,” Piett continued.

Solo chuckled as he moved to get himself some more kelkar nuts. “All right. What else do you two disagree on?”

“The proper way to cook a nerf steak…”

“Piett is an utter heathen when it comes to that,” said Max calmly calling up a krayt dragon and having it incinerate two of Fox’s pieces.

The Admiral thought that Fox might crack at that, but the man merely nodded slightly, (curse his controlled clone soul!!) and examined his move options.

“I am not,” Piett replied with dignity. “I just prefer my nerf dead when I eat it.”

“Ruin of a perfectly good nerf steak,” noted Veers with a tilt of his head. 

“Also he still owes me a bottle of Dathomirian brandy for...reasons,” the Admiral said loftily. 

“I…..” Veers physically bit his lip and Piett smiled broadly. This was one of their longest running, good natured feuds, and one that was usually guaranteed to make Veers come out swinging. 

Veers coughed lightly. 

“Solo. I believe that there is a general consensus on this ship, and no doubt, the fleet, that Piett is a fine example of upstanding manhood. Courageous, kind, honorable, etc. Would that be a fair assessment?”

The Corellian was already smirking at his expense.

“I have heard it personally, sir, yes.”

“I am here to tell you, Solo, that this view of our Admiral is an egregious pile of lies. You have only to witness the depths to which he is stooping at the moment to see the truth of the matter.”

“Which is?” Piett asked, highly amused, and placing an affectionate hand on his princess’s shoulder. 

“That you are a conniving and back stabbing little bastard…”

“Did you really stoop so low as to comment on my height, Veers?” he asked with a sad shake of his head. 

And the unthinkable happened. 

Fox snickered. 

The three other men gaped at him.

The clone commander looked at them all, a small smile on his face. “You didn’t hear that? The Admiral referred to ‘stooping low’ in reference to the height comment….?”

Piett was trying to comprehend this massive shift to his reality. 

“You….of all things, you found accidental wordplay _that_ amusing that you….?”

Words failed him. 

Dawning triumph was lighting Solo’s face. 

“Well Commander, thank you for that. Who knew that was your sense of humor? Admiral, I believe you owe me that brandy I mentioned a while back.”

“ _Force_.” Piett heaved a massive sigh, and the princess stirred groggily to sit up, yawning and leaning into his arm. 

“Are they still playing? Can I go to bed yet?” she asked tiredly. 

“You missed our Admiral here, lose the bet to me, your Worship,” Solo said, the fiend.

“I knew it!” Veers exclaimed, a furious scowl on his face, made more intense due to not being able to do it for two hours. “You bet against me. My friend. My _brother_. The betrayer…”

“Max, for kriff’s sake, you’re revealing to all of these people just how dramatic you actually are. And the thing is….well the thing is….it’s _Fox_ ,” he said helplessly. 

The commander raised a cool eyebrow. 

“Thank the Force that none of our subordinates are here to see the Senior officers and officials in this fleet acting like teenagers…”

“Han can’t help it,” her highness sighed, leaning her head on his shoulder and drawing the throw around her shoulders. He put his arm around her, and smiled at her smuggler’s wounded expression. 

Veers turned to make his final move. “Well. See if I back you up anymore, Firmus, when Henley….”

The dejarik board lit up on his side. 

“Your game then, General,” said Fox calmly, lifting the glass he’d mostly left untouched and downing his whiskey in one go. “Well played. Though next time I’d suggest not having this particular audience. Too talkative.”

And Piett found himself smiling broadly at both his friend and at Solo. 

“I _believe_ , Solo, that the outcome of the match is in _my_ favor. I look forward to the Falcon going through the Lady’s cleaning bay.”

The look of physical pain on the smuggler’s face caused Veers to smile as well. 

“Don’t think this makes it ok, Firmus, you still bet against me. _And_ tried to sabotage me. Which backfired wonderfully.”

Piett sighed. “Nothing personal, Max. A purely objective assessment of your ability here and Fox’s. And Solo, shall we call it a draw?”

The man was clearly torn. “I love that brandy. Haven’t had it in years….”

“And I am happy to fulfill my end of the bet if your filthy ship goes through the Lady’s cleaning regimen.”

“That ‘filthy ship’ has saved your life, Admiral…”

“Not because of the dirt upon her….”

“Oh _stars_. Han, the Lady will clean the Falcon. Admiral dear, I love you, but you will give over that bottle so that my smuggler over there will shut up and we can all go sleep.”

“She who must be obeyed,” Veers said softly under his breath.

“I heard that, General,” his princess said regally, sitting up, but smiling. She leaned over to kiss his cheek, before rising.

“I warned you about betting with Han, Admiral of mine. It’s costing you sleep as well.”

She was right, he reflected as Solo got his arm around her and the two of them left, while Fox turned off the dejarik board and he and Veers replaced their caps and tidied their uniforms.

But the Falcon would be clean. 

“Training tomorrow, Firmus?” Max asked as they walked out together, a particular glint in his eye.

And Piett sighed. “I’m going to pay for betting against you aren’t I?”

Veers clapped his shoulder firmly. “You absolutely are, friend of mine.”

  
  



	94. Friendship is not earned, it is a gift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anakin has a tough day medically, and Piett seeks to be a good friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is for jedi_knights_at_bel_canto_bights who pitched this terrific idea to me, pointing out that with the injuries he had, Anakin would indeed have ongoing issues, even with the surgeries and improvements. So here is a 'bad' day and Anakin discovers he doesn't have to cope with those alone.
> 
> And thank you so much for the prompt jedi!! It's been lovely to have you reading and and being so encouraging! :)

“How’s the new migraine medication working for you?” Henley asked as Piett did up his jacket.

“I’ve only had to use it twice so far, I’m glad to say,” he responded, brushing his fingers through his hair before replacing his cap. “And it was very effective I thought. Works a bit more quickly. So thank you for that.”

Piett had just completed his physical. He loathed them with all of his being and attempted to postpone them as often as possible. However, this time around, both Henley and the princess had been insistent that he not do so given that the last four months had been rough on him, body and soul. 

Henley had been surprisingly quiet--none of his usual acerbic running commentary about commanding officers who insisted on running themselves into the deck plating. 

“Well,” he said at last. “I see whatever new training regime the General has for you two is keeping you fit. And if you tell him I said that, you will regret it, Admiral.”

Piett had smiled. “Understood.”

“Shoulder looks good. I would still advise you not to overdo it yet.”

Henley seemed….almost distracted.

“Something bothering you, Doctor?” Piett asked, straightening his jacket hems and feeling like himself once more. 

Henley hesitated. Then, after looking around the sickbay he seemed to make a decision. 

“Admiral. I am currently treating his Lordship for a…..bad day.”

_ Ah. Right. Piett knew that they existed. But it had been a while since a ‘bad day’ had coincided with Lord Vader being on board the Lady. _

“He is….rather incapacitated and bored, which never bodes well for anyone….”

“And still insistent that we not inform his children…?” Piett asked cautiously.

Henley’s sigh was answer enough.

Piett pondered this information. It was bad enough that the Doctor was telling him….and if the situation was reversed, Piett knew what he would appreciate. Granted, Lord Vader was very different from Piett, but….he might appreciate the gesture at least.

“I will comm Captain Kelly and tell him the physical is taking longer than expected,” he told Henley who snorted.

“Well, wouldn’t that be nice? Because, as usual, you could use more sleep….”

“Well then aren’t we glad for tea?” Piett responded dryly. “However, I don’t mind using you as an excuse in this situation since his Lordship insists he doesn’t want his children to know.”

His commanding officer had been quite stubborn on this point. Certainly the surgeries and healing on Kamino had done wonders for him. But there were always going to be consequences from the battle on Mustafar. And Lord Vader was still not ready to tell his son in particular, how he had come by these injuries, nor how they still troubled him. 

So Piett and Henley were the only two who knew about the ‘bad days’. 

Accordingly, having commed Kelly and assuring him that he was fine, just taking a while, Piett made his way to Lord Vader’s quarters which housed his private medical suite. 

The doors hissed quietly behind him, and Piett moved slowly into the darkened rooms. He had never just….showed up like this before. Well. When it wasn’t an emergency. But….things were different now. He considered his commander a friend as well. Still, it was hard to shake the old sense that perhaps he shouldn’t be here…..

“If I….didn’t want you…..I would not have let the….doors open...Admiral,” came his Lordship’s voice and Piett entered the medical chambers.

Lord Vader was lying on the hospital bed near his bacta tank. His lower half was covered with a blanket, but Piett could see that his leg prosthetics were removed. He was wearing an oxygen mask and was connected to numerous drips and wires. His eyes looked slightly hazy and Piett realized that he must have a great deal of the ‘good’ painkillers in his system. 

He stood straight and placed his hands behind his back, unsure of how to proceed.

Lord Vader smiled suddenly. 

“You...always do that….when you want to look….confident.”

_ Oh, it was like that was it? Clearly the drugs were erasing some inhibitions. Though Lord Vader had been known to say such things when he was perfectly aware as well, so….. _

“I….merely wondered if there was anything I could do, my Lord.”

“Which means….Henley feels I...need a minder.”

The tone was irritated, but Piett did not rise to the bait. He would be irritated as well, to put it mildly, to be trapped and helpless like this. He had experienced it enough to know.

“I did not get that impression from the Doctor, my Lord,” he said carefully. “But both of us wondered if perhaps…..well, would it not be helpful to you, my Lord, to have at least your son aware of this condition?”

His commander studied him for a long moment, his breathing harsher and somewhat reminiscent of the days in the mask. Piett would  _ not _ shift uncomfortably, he would  _ not _ .

“I did not seek...  _ pity _ from you or the Doctor, Admiral. I expect….. better than that from Henley---he is getting soft now that…. I am not in the mask.”

_ Which was absolutely not how Piett thought of the Doctor, so he could only imagine what he may have been like a few years ago. _

“You of…. course, have a more generous heart, but I still…don’t want you to …..”

“My Lord,” Piett interrupted and marvelled that he was able to do so and live these days. “I cannot speak for Dr. Henley of course. But I do not feel pity. That requires a form of condescension I would never dare, nor desire. I do however, feel empathy, because I have been trapped in similar fashion before as you know. Not to this extent, happily….Regardless, am I allowed to feel the empathy of a friend?”

His lordship snorted, fogging the oxygen mask. “Are you.. _ allowed… _ ” He pointed a finger at Piett, and the Admiral couldn’t help his smile at that familiar action. “Sit down, Piett. Don’t think….I can’t hear or….sense….your sarcasm, because I am…..laid up.”

He obeyed, pulling the chair up so they could converse easily, and removed his cap to be slightly less formal. 

“As to my son….or my daughter knowing about these….episodes….”

“Is that what we’re calling them, my Lord?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

And that was definitely a breathless chuckle. “Force help us….all when that….eyebrow goes up, Admiral.”

“Not all of us have the ability to point the finger with the same level of….gravitas that you are gifted with, my Lord.”

And he felt rather pleased with himself when he made Anakin Skywalker laugh. 

“Piett…..I am pleased to know…..that you have a sense of….humor which is….wickedly understated. And it is nice to….see it….when you are deliberately….conscious of doing it.”

He was puzzled.

“What do you mean, my Lord?”

He didn’t care for that look of delighted mischief in his commander’s eyes. 

“You don’t….remember.”

_ Kriff. Now he did. _

His lordship chuckled again.

“There….it is.”

“My Lord….I hardly think it is fair to hold what I said while delirious with fever against me.”

The ex-Sith shifted slightly. “Not holding it…..Admiral. It was an….enlightening glimpse into...who you could be….when not exhausted and….fearing for...your life.”

Piett sobered up at that. “I was not afraid at that point, my Lord. You had….given me hope then.” He smiled to allay any potential for painful memory there. “Aside from crashing the ship of course.”

“That,” his Lordship said “was not….my fault.”

“Are you still blaming  _ me _ for having a cold, my Lord?” *

His commander grinned. “Absolutely. It was….more than a….cold, Piett. You were….very sick. It was quite...distracting. Thus, the crash.”

Piett rolled his eyes and sat back. “I was still doing my job, why it should have distracted Darth Vader….” he trailed off as he realized _why_ his commander had been distracted. _He had cared, even as Vader...._

Blue eyes looked at him knowingly. “I am still very….bad at knowing how to….be a friend, Admiral. I was…. _ terrible _ then. But….I  _ was… _ ..trying. I should have….noted how ill you...were before we left.”

_ Piett still found conversations like this surreal. _

“Sometimes, my Lord, I wonder if I’ll wake up from this reality. It is always a very pleasant reminder that this is, in fact, real. That you decided to turn from the Dark Side. That we joined forces with your children and defeated the Emperor. The sheer amount of  _ good _ that has come from that….” he paused. 

“And that is speaking broadly. Personally, I will forever be grateful that your actions led to me having….family. To have a purpose in life that I am very proud to carry out on this ship. You gave me the Lady….”

A white light flashed and his Lordship chuckled. “I think she would….disagree there….Admiral. She  _ chose _ you.”

He glanced up and smiled at her. “That is true. But….you recommended me to her, my Lord.”

“Coming back to your….original query however….I am not….ready for my children….to see me like this.”

“Commander Skywalker surely would want to….”

“He might, Piett, but….. _ I _ do not...wish it.”

_ And he was called stubborn. _

He huffed and folded his arms, and inexplicably once more, his lordship laughed though it became coughing and he had to pause and catch his breath. 

“My Lord…”

“It’s ….fine, Piett. You just….kriffing hell you and…..Obi-Wan….would have...got on well.”

_ He wasn’t quite sure how to take that. _

His commander could sense this of course.

“Just...you have some mannerisms...and he got frustrated…..with me like that. Folding his arms...was never a...good sign.”

Piett wondered if he could push…

“You can, Admiral.”

“My Lord,” he sighed, “we have discussed just reading my mind…”

“You are being sloppy….in guarding your...thoughts, Piett. I taught you….better.”

He raised an eyebrow once more but decided that he wouldn’t argue about this while his lordship was indisposed.

“Very considerate,” Lord Vader said, nodding.

“ _ Sir… _ .” He took a deep breath and let it out. He had plenty of practice in dealing with infuriating Sith Lords, he would be calm even if they were obnoxious on painkillers. _ And I hope you heard that, my Lord! _

“I did,” he chuckled lightly. “But you want to know more of...Obi-Wan.”

“Yes, my Lord. You….well. I know about the hard times now. But perhaps you’d care to tell me about the good things. How did you become friends as well as mentor and padawan?”

He waited patiently. If Lord Vader wanted to tell him, he would. It was fine if he didn’t. 

“He….stuck by me, Piett. He was loyal…..” He paused and Piett could almost feel his grief. 

“I was quite ...old to begin padawan training. He pushed. Insisted I could. That meant so much to me.”

His commander shifted again. “I was…. _difficult_ as I got older…”

And Piett couldn’t stop the snort if it killed him. Which it might. 

Blue eyes stared at him coldly. “Did you wish...to say something...Admiral?”

_ He really shouldn’t. _

_ He did anyway.  _

“It’s just hard to imagine that, my Lord.”

This earned him another finger point.

“And this is just….further proof that….you and Obi-Wan can be...equally  _ trying _ .”

“Should I be insulted or honored?”

“Hmm.”

Piett smiled. 

“Leaving your appalling manners aside for the moment, Piett, the point….I was trying to make was that….he never left. Even….when I was terrible. And because of that….there were a few years….where we were….. _ brothers _ .”

And his countenance was torn between the good memories there and the grief that it hadn’t lasted. 

“How so, my Lord?” he asked quietly. 

His commander sighed, and took some deep breaths in his mask before responding.

“We fought side by side in the Clone Wars. I don’t….have to tell you, Piett...that the brotherhood of battle...of shedding blood with your….friends….”

_ No indeed. Piett knew that feeling well.  _

He nodded. “A unique bond, my Lord.”

His lordship looked at him knowingly. “Yes. We….saved each other’s lives more...times than I care to…..recall. And he….mocked me far more….openly than you dare to do, Admiral….”

“My Lord, I would hardly say that I  _ mock _ you…”

The ex-Sith raised his eyebrows.

“...much at all. Surely it’s more….light ribbing.”

Lord Vader snorted. “Well, he enjoyed….giving me a hard time as…..only friends can do. I….miss that.”

And to Piett’s chagrin, his commander’s eyes filled. 

“If….it will help, my Lord, I will strive to give you a much harder time than I have been doing.”

His commander chuckled. “ _ Thank _ you, Admiral. These kriffing drugs….harder to deal with...memories…” he paused, then gestured at Piett.

“Tell me how you and Veers….became friends. I don’t...think I know that story. By the time I….knew you both, you ….already had an established….friendship.”

  
  


*****

  
  


He watched his Admiral consider this. He sensed that Piett knew Anakin was deliberately steering the topic away from himself, but one of his Admiral’s many attributes was his kindness, and he was not going to mention it. 

The pain was a more manageable dull throb now and Anakin shifted again, even though he knew he could not escape it that way. Henley had improved the drug regimen for these days, and the doctors on Kamino were researching ways to perhaps make these episodes less painful, though they could not ever eradicate them. 

Perhaps he would tell Luke eventually. He could not bear the thought of telling Leia. She would not rejoice at his suffering---they were beyond that. Rather, he knew it would conflict her more, and he didn’t desire to put his daughter through further psychological and emotional struggles.

In the meantime, Henley and Piett could be trusted to keep his confidence. He was moved by both the Doctor’s understanding of his feelings on being helpless, and his Admiral’s generosity in determinedly being his friend. He deserved neither.

He gave his attention to Piett, being genuinely curious about this, and wondering why he hadn’t asked before. 

The man leaned back and relaxed a bit more into the chair. 

“Well. I have to confess, my Lord, that it’s not a particularly….happy story.”

“Much from that time was…..not, Admiral. Please do not…..let that stop you.”

Piett gave him a brief smile. “Very well, my Lord.” He paused and considered. “I had been aboard the Executor about three months, and I confess, I was not pleased to have been taken from being Avenger’s captain to serve on the flagship. I grant that it was seen as an honor, but….”

“You preferred being Captain of your own ship,” Anakin said knowingly.

Piett met his eyes. “Yes, my Lord. I had no idea at the time that you had personally made the transfer or I might have felt somewhat differently about it. All I knew was that it felt like a demotion even though everyone insisted it wasn’t. And I knew I was joining a command crew made almost exclusively of Core worlders….”

Anakin began to cough. And couldn’t stop. Oh  _ kriff… _

He was in a haze and it was hard to catch his breath. But he became aware of being propped against someone’s shoulder, and then the oxygen mask was off and a glass of water was at his lips.

“.....ll Henley, my Lord?”

Anakin managed some small sips and the raging convulsions were tamed. He took a few breaths, and Piett offered the water again. 

His Admiral was stronger than he had given him credit for, holding him against his shoulder like this. 

“No….Piett. Just need….to catch….my breath.”

He nodded and set the glass down on the table, reaching behind Anakin for extra pillows and propping them up so he could sit up more.

“Better?” he asked.

“Thank you….Admiral,” he replied as Piett eased him back down and handed him the mask to replace himself. 

He appreciated that about Piett---he knew that even little things like that were helpful. Small ways that Anakin could still be in control. He replaced the mask with prosthetic hands that felt too heavy, and then looked to the Admiral who had stepped back to give him a little space, hands behind his back once more and the head tilt that was so familiar. 

He recalled looking over Piett’s file for the first time--- at his accomplishments and record. The very fact that he had done what he had,  _ and _ been from Axxila had drawn Anakin to have him transferred. He had been one among several that he had chosen at the time as he carefully maneuvered the officers and crew of Death Squadron to be his and his alone. 

“My Lord?” Piett asked inquiringly, and he realized that he had been watching the man and not speaking. 

“Sorry. Just...recalling learning of…..you for the first….time. I’ll be fine...Admiral. Thank you. Please...continue.”

Piett watched him carefully as he lowered himself back to his chair. 

“Let me know, my Lord if you wish me to stop…”

“You are helping….Piett. Please….stay.”

And the Admiral gave the little smile he always got when informed he was wanted. Piett never took that for granted, given his early years and the handicap of being an Outer Rimmer in a very class conscious Empire. 

“Well. I was being tested in more ways than one during those early months on the Lady, and obviously, I didn’t know you were watching….” *

“Not closely….enough, I’m sorry to say.”

Keen hazel eyes met his. “I don’t blame you for my challenges, my Lord. You did not set out for Ozzel to be the ass that he was.”

And Anakin wanted to laugh at the elegant dry tones, stating that so matter of factly, but knew his lungs couldn’t manage. He chuckled lightly. 

“Still…”

Piett smiled. “You do not need self recrimination, my Lord. At any rate, you may recall that Ozzel was perpetuating the tensions between our army and navy at the time.”

_ Yes, Force, how could Anakin have forgotten the utter blot the late Admiral had been? _

“There was an incident--they happened often--between some of the men and I was sent to deal with it. I have no doubt he intended it to be deeply unpleasant for me. After all, most of the troopers are quite tall and I….” he chuckled. 

“People are quite... foolish to misjudge you, Piett,” Anakin told him, smiling with him, “I was among that….number.”

“Well. I went to discover that, as usual, some of the navy were being choice bastards to some of the army. And it was then that I observed a tall colonel reaming out his own men for being involved in a fight they did not start. I offered my support, and ordered the navy personnel who were guilty to the brig for the night.”

Anakin was impressed.

“Did you indeed? That cannot…..have gone over well.”

Piett rested his ankle over the other knee and clasped his fingers around his shin. “No, my Lord, it did not. And Ozzel ordered retribution for my betrayal, as he saw it, of the navy.”

Anakin was reminded suddenly of the slight Captain in his quarters, delivering reports and declaring himself fit for duty even though he was pale as death and carrying himself very stiffly indeed. 

And something sunk in.

“Wait. He…. _ ordered… _ .?”

Piett nodded. “He really did not like me, my Lord.”   
  


“Piett.” Anakin wished anew he could have done things differently. “I wish you could have come to me with that. I am sorry.”

“Well, my Lord, as I recall, you did do something about it.”

“I did?” He didn’t recall this.

“Yes. You changed a lowly Captain’s duty schedule, allowing him some time to heal and rest.” The Admiral smiled. 

_ And the memory returned. Asking the Lady to show him the beat down. Looking over the roster and seeing the appalling amount of hours the Axxilan Captain was expected to work. Taking great delight in changing Ozzel’s order…. _

“Admiral,” he said seriously, “I am not….sorry that I...killed him.”

Piett gazed back at him. “I’m afraid I’m not all that sorry either, sir.”

“I  _ am _ sorry that you were….standing next to him. But tell me…..how Veers...plays into this.”

Anakin felt the strength of Piett’s affection for the General in the Force. And yes, that was indeed how he had felt about Obi-Wan. 

“Veers found out about….the incident we’ll call it. He took it upon himself to wait for me to come off of my shift, knowing that I was not going to be doing well.”

_ Massive understatement. _   
  


Anakin looked at him. “You were being a stubborn bastard weren’t you?”

Piett laughed, and Anakin still enjoyed the fact that he had people who felt free to do that around him once more. 

“Yes, I suppose so. Didn’t want Ozzel to have the satisfaction...At any rate, thank the Force for Veers. I would have passed out in the corridor, and who knows what the results would have been? It was humiliating enough having him cart me to his quarters. Woke up on his sofa with a medic from the Herd treating the broken hand.”

Anakin winced. “ _ Piett… _ ”

“I told you, my Lord, not a happy story. However, it did lead to me getting the best friend I could possibly have imagined so really…” he paused again and smiled down at his clasped hands. “I think I’d be willing to go through that again if the reward was a friend like Max Veers.”

Anakin was feeling quite thankful for the General as well. The idea of Piett collapsed alone in the corridor was painful. 

“He and Braxton between them, ordered me to stay on his sofa. And Veers was hoping that you may have tinkered with the duty schedule, and lo and behold, you had. So we were able to spend some of the best hours of my life discovering that the army and the navy could, in fact, get along.”

He smiled at Piett’s understatement. “Glad I did…..something right,” Anakin said. 

“Sir.” Piett was wearing the ‘Admiral’ expression. He rarely did so with Anakin, and it amused him internally when Piett forgot who had seniority. He was about to get a small lecture no doubt.

“You made me Captain of the Lady not long after. I will forever be in your debt for that. You have allowed me the privilege of knowing your children, and that would not have been possible without your choice and your _will_ to turn from the Dark Side. From where I’m sitting, you have done many things ‘right’, my Lord.”

Piett had always been too generous with him. 

“Thank you, Admiral.”

“I must leave now, my Lord, as Kelly has been very generous and could use the break.”

He rose, snagging his cap and replacing it neatly.

“If you wish, I can come again when I finish…”

Anakin smiled. 

“That is a generous…..offer, Piett, but….”

He paused, and made his decision internally. “Perhaps you would be so…. good as to have Luke come here when he returns tonight.”

He felt his Admiral’s pleasure at this request. 

“I would be more than happy to do so, my Lord.”

“And Piett,” Anakin said, causing the man to pause and look back. “You should know that I consider….. transferring you to the Lady as one of my greatest accomplishments.”

There was the flush his Admiral always got when he received praise. 

“Thank you, my Lord,” he replied, and smiled. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Forging Ahead Ch.83
> 
> *In the Trenches We Find Our Friends


	95. Sealing a Friendship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Early in their friendship, Veers drags Piett planetside for drinks and the consequences of this are both good and bad. ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm several chapter deep into the next installment of my Empire Reimagined series, when this idea came up. I have my characters refer to this event but I don't include it in that story. So naturally, I thought 'this would be a fun one shot'. It's been a while since I've written my two favorite Imperials at this early point in their friendship, so I do hope you'll excuse any rustiness. 
> 
> Thank you as always for reading! I love hearing from you!

“Captain.”

Piett looked up from the pile of flimsies on his desk, face as haggard as Veers had expected it would be. 

Of course, this was the reason that Veers had come in the first place---rather sure that his friend was buried in work, and he was here to ensure that the recently appointed Captain of the Executor didn’t just keel over.

Ozzel had been forced to back off of his overt persecution of the short officer from Axxila, due to his promotion and clear favor from the Dark Lord. He still looked for more subtle ways however, to make Piett’s life difficult, and one of them was the amount of small and piddly things he sent the Captain’s way. This included vast amounts of paperwork (much of it really being the Admiral’s purview) or dealing with intership issues that should be delegated to commanders and division heads. 

Piett had been the Lady’s Captain for four months now, and while the crew were noticeably happy about this, most of the Senior officers (largely Ozzel type flunkies) were displeased at his rising star and shunned him at every opportunity. 

So Veers made sure to be quite obviously Piett’s chief supporter, and further, his friend. As he could give all sorts of damns about what the other officers thought of him, he didn’t find it hard in the least, and over the months that he had come to know the Captain, he was only reinforced in his initial assessment of the man.

Piett was strong, exceedingly competent, firm and also fair. He had a delightful dry sense of humor, and absolutely no pretensions or class distinctions. 

He was also very good at hiding his feelings for reasons Veers feared were deeply unpleasant, and he was the most STUBBORN kriffer the General had ever met in his life, with the possible exception of Lord Vader, but it really wasn’t fair to compare anyone else to a Sith Lord.

So.

He had a bit of a challenge ahead to convince his friend to do what he had in mind. But Veers was fairly confident in the hand he held for this play.

“You need a break. Come on. We’re heading planetside.”

Piett just gazed at him for a moment, his clearly tired brain trying to process this order.

“Veers...do you see the stacks of flimsies here? And these are the spawn of the others I’ve already done. They reproduce like chitliks!”

The General grinned. 

“And half of them should be on Ozzel’s desk and you know it.”

He came further into the Captain’s office and noted at least three mugs which had held that spiced tea Piett favored. 

His friend sighed and leaned back in his chair. “Yes, I do, but most of it is fairly urgent. If I tried to send it back to his desk, we would then deal with the problems in ship’s routine due to the delay of these orders. You know how he is.”

“Better than you,” Veers responded dryly. “But this will all keep for a few hours. Do you want to fall face down on these reports?”

“Not particularly,” his friend responded, watching him with a skeptical eyebrow. “I also would like the Lady to run smoothly.”

“Which she is.”

“For now,” Piett stretched his back. “I’m working on what I can delegate to the appropriate division heads, but…. well. They are used to repercussions from Ozzel as well, and convincing them that I will take full responsibility is a  _ task _ .”

And of course, Piett would strive to convince them by assuring them he would take responsibility.

“You need to know the right ones to speak to,” Veers commented. “I can help you there. But  _ after _ we go planetside, and give you real oxygen and not the overfiltered air on ship.”

The lights in the office flickered slightly.

“Does maintenance need to deal with this?”

Piett gave the ceiling a strange, considering look. 

“Ah….no, I don’t think so.”

The Captain rose stiffly and came around the desk. “Look, Veers, I really appreciate the consideration….”

“Consideration nothing.” The General snorted. “I’m purely concerned for the running of this ship. What will we all do if the Captain collapses on the bridge? In front of Lord Vader no less?”

Piett rubbed at the bridge of his nose. “I’m not sure what it says about my priorities, Max, that I’m more concerned about collapsing in front of Ozzel than Vader.”

Veers grinned widely. “It’s one of many reasons you’re my friend.” He enjoyed seeing Piett’s face relax into a genuine smile, warm and grateful for that statement. 

“Let’s go, Captain. You are taking a break. When we get back, I’ll help you figure out which division heads you can talk to about spreading this load.”

Piett pondered this, leaning tiredly against the front of his desk. 

“That’s…...not a terrible idea.”

“Of course it’s not,” responded Veers coolly. “I came up with it.”

Piett chuckled derisively. “Leaving that aside, it would be a good way to show the division leaders that I want to hear their input. That I value them….”

Veers smiled internally. Piett was a good leader. As he’d seen early on. And if he could help nudge him on a path that would have the ship--officers and enlisted crew---committed to their Captain, he would do so in a Kessel second.

The shorter man nodded to himself in a decision and reached for his cap and gloves.

“All right. A few hours.”

“Excellent.”

  
  


****

  
Piett looked around the room while Veers grabbed their drinks from the bar. Neither of them had been here before, but it seemed pleasant enough. 

He was doing his best to unwind. He knew that Veers was right----that if he didn’t take a break more catastrophic things could happen then just unfinished paperwork. Still it was hard not to obsess over the stacks of flimsies, neat and accusing on his desk. But who wanted to be around someone who couldn’t focus on the moment? Who could only fuss and worry about what he wasn’t doing?

Veers had been a terrific friend and support these last months. Piett was very grateful for that. It was just…..

_ …..it was just that he knew it wouldn’t last.  _

Eventually the General would realize that fraternizing with an officer from the Outer Rim would hurt his own career. Would see that his own social circles were freezing him out---that Piett really wasn’t worth all this time.

He wasn’t feeling sorry for himself--this was fact and he had faced it before. Nothing in the way of meaningful relationships had ever lasted for him, and he could admit that right now he was being terrifically selfish about it. He wanted to enjoy this while Veers was still inviting him for dinner or for drinks or just a friendly time on the range. But that was just driving the nail deeper into the coffin of Veers’ career.

The right thing to do would be to point out the issues to Max. General Veers. If he kept thinking ‘Max’ then this would be more difficult. 

“Well, that serious look on your face doesn’t bode well,” came Veers’ voice and Piett looked up, startled, and realizing just how deep in thought he’d been.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Veers, just….”

The General sat and slid his brimming glass over. “Thought we’d start with the local hops. Smells divine. Cheers!”

He gently clicked his glass to Piett's and took a deep pull.

“That right there, Firmus, that should be mandatory drinking for anyone coming off a 12 hour shift.”

  
  
Piett smiled and drank deeply of his as well. It was very good.

“Now. What had you so very solemn all of a sudden?”

_ Was he ready to say this? It was so soon…. _

_ Be fair!  _ Said the voice in his head. Easier to cut it off earlier rather than watch Veers realize it later. The General would not go down because of him. 

He took another quick drink, because he was a coward and couldn’t quite say this immediately. Then he took a breath and looked at those warm grey eyes. Those who thought the General was cold just didn’t know him.

“I should start by saying, Veers, that everything you have done on my behalf the last months...I can never repay.”

Veers smiled at him, though there was wariness now in his expression. “Thank you…..”

“So,” continued Piett ruthlessly, because if he didn’t continue, he wasn’t sure his nerve would hold. “I am very grateful and always will be no matter what. At the same time, I completely recognize you have a career to consider. I would never want that to be compromised, certainly not by m-----”

But he was interrupted as Veers held up a hand as though halting his troops. He stared searchingly at Piett for a second.

“How many times recently have you been nerving yourself to say this?” he asked without heat.

Piett flushed. “A few….”

Veers nodded. “I thought so. These  _ kriffing _ Core worlders! Surely you know by now, Firmus, that I’m not among them.”   
  


“Of course, I’m sorry, Veers, I didn’t mean to imply…”

“You didn’t. But you don’t…. _ trust _ that I’m going to stick around do you, Captain?”

He sat up straighter, and met the General’s eyes. “I would completely understand, Veers. No hard feelings.”

The General blew out a breath, then compressed his lips and looked down at his drink. 

“Piett. I might be insulted if this were someone else questioning my loyalty.”

And something heavy was in his stomach at that. He hadn’t meant….wait,  _ loyalty _ ?   
  


His puzzlement must have shown on his face, and Veers let out a humorless laugh.

“But right there in your face, I can see that is not at all what you meant. Clearly it hasn’t even occurred to you that someone might be loyal to  _ you _ .”

“I know that my men will follow orders…”

“That’s not what I meant. I mean  _ you _ . As a friend.”

Piett had nothing. Because no, no one ever had been a friend. Certainly not on Axxila where one eked out an existence. Not in the anti-pirate fleet where he had to watch his back 24/7. He wondered if that bounty was still on his head. 

And in the Imperial navy he had co-workers and crew. Not friends. Veers had been unique….

“Look, Veers….”

The General did not seem to want him to speak tonight.

“Nope. Time for you to listen to me, Captain Piett. And that’s both as your superior officer and your friend. Mostly your friend. The superior officer part is to shut you up for a moment.”   
  


Piett couldn’t stop his smile.

“Yes, sir.”

“I don’t know what kind of kriff awful past you had, but I can take some broad guesses, given where you’re from. When you want to tell me about it, you can. Because you will have time to do so, and I want to know. For now, you need to be very clear on some things. Are you paying very close attention, Captain?”

He paused to spear Piett with a look that had ensigns trembling in their boots. The corner of Piett’s mouth twitched, but he held it together.

“Very close, General.”   
  


“Good.” Veers took another deep pull at his beer. “First. I like you as a person. I could care less where you’re from and I can absolutely tell Ozzel and anyone like him which airlock I’d like them to trot out of if they think I’m lowering myself to socialize with you.”

Piett took a drink himself, mostly to give himself something to do and keep his composure.

“Second,” Veers continued as though explaining a campaign, “I have already recognized that I am friends with someone who sees it as his job to protect absolutely everyone else at the expense of himself. You are a noble soul, my friend and I admire that about you. However, I am going to remind you as often as I need to---years if I have to---that it is equally fair for others to take a hit to protect  _ you _ as well.”

Piett squirmed uncomfortably at this.  _ How did Veers see through him so well? How had he already figured this out? _

“Firmus, I’m not concerned about my career. Lord Vader promoted me. Also, and this is my third point, he promoted  _ you _ . He doesn’t seem to care where you’re from. He clearly bases his decisions on the competence displayed. For some reason, he wants both of us in positions of authority on the Executor.”

This was true. And Piett had never felt this before. Was this actual trust then? Because he knew the General well enough to know that he would absolutely not put up with any poodoo. He was not the type to trot out false sentiments either.

So the conclusion was…...the conclusion was that for the first time in his difficult and lonely life someone actually wanted him because of who he was. That was it. It was so simple that Piett felt breathless and warm and ….. _ happy _ . A friend.  _ Stars _ . 

In the moment he felt as though Veers had given him the galaxy.

He dared to meet the General’s eyes once more, and his friend nodded in satisfaction. 

“Finally. Got through then. By the way, you win the award for most stubborn kriffer in the galaxy.”

Piett laughed and he felt so light. Veers smiled with him. 

“I  _ assume _ I got through. Will you believe me, Firmus? I don’t drop my people. And you’re my people. Since Myra died, I haven’t….”

He paused. All Piett knew was that Veers had had a wife and son. That they were dead. 

“I don’t make friends easily,” Veers decided upon, and Piett was humbled that the General esteemed him enough.

“I’ll drink to that,” he said, and realized that his beer was nearly gone. 

Max grinned. “Oh if we’re drinking to you realizing that you really do have a friend, we need something stronger.”

“Max….” Piett began, but the General was already approaching the bar to loudly request the strongest drink in the house. Things got quiet as the whole bar turned their attention to the Imperial who was apparently interested in dying tonight. 

The barkeep, a local, looked at him skeptically. “Sir, have you had  _ gristale _ before?”

Veers looked supremely calm. “No, but I have drunk various strong local specialties across the galaxy. Hit me. Two please.”

Piett tamped down his apprehension. He did have work to do later...

Veers returned triumphant and set the small glasses on the table. 

“Veers,” Piett hissed quietly, aware that the eyes of most of the patrons were on them. “It’s  _ smoking _ .”

The taller man nodded. “And creating a burn mark on the table. Exactly the right thing to seal this friendship.”

He lifted his glass and Piett did the same. 

“To the best Captain the Lady has ever had and that I’ve ever known.”

“To my friend,” Piett returned with a wide smile and then watched in astonishment as Veers downed his in one go.

Piett had one sip and found that the world had stopped. For the sake of his dignity, for the dignity of the  _ Imperial navy, _ he fought back the coughs that were even now threatening to overwhelm him. He was aware he must be quite red in the face, and he could feel the sweat at his temples. 

He envied Veers who was looking at his glass contemplatively. “Another I think.”

Piett gaped at him. “ _ You _ can, General. I would like to live.”

He couldn’t help but notice the other beings were all watching Veers like an interesting science experiment. 

The General received his second glass from the bartender who was not even hiding his lifted eyebrows.    
  


He sat down once more and grinned happily at the Captain. “Cheers!”

“Max….” 

But Veers downed it once more. Piett stared into his own half full glass. Maybe he should try again--perhaps it became more bearable.

No. 

Not at all. 

Someone had fired a portion of the Lady’s plasma core into his throat.  _ Force _ , he might die. 

He tried to surreptitiously wipe tears from his cheeks as Veers pondered the ceiling with great interest.

_ Was the General…? _

“You know,” his friend said happily, still looking at the ceiling, “We should bring some of this back. For Lord Vader. He’d like it. Kills people. Just like this drink.”

Oh kriffing hells…..

“Max, I think it’s time we left,” Piett said, making to rise, but Veers brought his fascinated attention back from the ceiling to the Captain with great offense. 

“Firmus….. I like your name. Fiiiiiirmus.”

Definitely time to go.

“General, we both have work to do…”

Veers was on his feet before Piett could stop him, walking with great purpose, if not complete accuracy, up to the bar.

Piett followed. 

“One more for the…..road. No.” Veers squinted at him. “We fly. In the stars. One more for the shuttle….”

Piett tried to stop the bartender. “I think he’s really had plenty, sir.”

“Hey, he’s got the credits and you’re with him, so…” the infuriating man shrugged, and slid one more glass across the worn wooden counter.

“Max…” Piett hissed, as Veers took it.

“W’as it called again?”

“Gristale,” said the barkeep. Piett glared at the man. 

“Piett. You’re the best. Best friend.” Veers downed it again. The Captain was reluctantly impressed even as he feared the results. Veers set the glass down somewhat unsteadily and turned to view the room, leaning heavily on the counter.

“Let’s all sing a rousing chorus in honor of Lord Vader!” he called and Piett watched in horror as he lifted his arms like a conductor. 

“Not necessary, General. Besides….” he wracked his brain swiftly. “Lord Vader would like you to personally deliver this performance. We need to get back to do so.”   
  


Veers turned to look at him in surprise and Piett tried to ignore the openly hostile looks from numerous patrons at Lord Vader’s name. 

“Well. O’ course. Be a pleasure. Lead on Captain, my Captain.”

And step one was completed in that he got Veers out of the bar and into the night air of the planet. 

They made their slow way back to the shuttle with Veers waxing poetic about numerous topics (stars are like…..little plasma engines, Firmus) and getting heavier, as he leaned on Piett. 

At last, ( _ at last _ ) they reached the shuttle, and now the General was looking distinctly ill. 

“Piett,” he groaned as the Captain lowered him across some of the seats in the passenger hold and moved forward to start up the engines. “I think….I think I’m dying. Don’t fire my body into space until you’re….until you’re sure though….”

Piett smiled grimly. “No one will do that, Max, and you’re not dying.”

Truth be told, he felt a bit ill himself and he’d only had a few sips. He could only imagine how Veers was feeling. Note to himself---never touch anything called gristale or anything close to it. 

Once he had the shuttle out of the planet’s orbit, he set the auto pilot for the brief 15 minutes they had to arrive on the Lady and went to see about helping his friend. 

Veers looked positively green and Piett snatched a sick bag just in time. 

“Firmus,” he panted as Piett knelt by him. “I’m...sorry. Never happened….before in my….life..kriff..”

Piett waited until Veers laid back and closed his eyes. “I’m having us go to one of the smaller bays, Max. I had the deck chief clear it. And Braxten is meeting us with anti nausea meds. Then you’re going to stagger your way to my quarters and park on the couch.”

Rather astonishingly, things went smoothly, all things considered, in getting Veers to his quarters. Braxten was a miracle worker who didn’t ask questions, and Veers was looking and feeling better in a few hours. Too white still and weak as a Loth kitten, but up to sipping the water that Piett brought him, before the Captain returned to the piles of flimsies all over the floor of his quarters. 

He had changed into his own Imperial navy sweats, and sent a service droid to Veers’ quarters for the General as anything Piett had would be laughably small for his friend. 

So here they both were at 0200--Piett sipping his….5th? 6th? He couldn’t recall...cup of tea and pushing doggedly through his work while the ‘Iron’ General recovered on his sofa.

He was seated on the floor and leaning against said sofa, forcing his eyes to recognize the words as comprehensible Basic when Veers spoke for the first time in an hour.

“Firmus.”

He looked up. “More water?”

“No. I mean, yes eventually, but….thank you.” Sincere grey eyes, surrounded by dark circles, looked into his.

“Of course,” Piett replied with a small smile. “I seem to recall being confined to your couch not that long ago.”

Veers managed a tiny smile back. “Did I….did I propose a song to Lord Vader?”

And Piett couldn’t help his snort of laughter. “You did, yes.”

“ _ Force _ . Shoot me now.”

“We were the only Imperial officers in there, Max.”   
  


Without opening his eyes, Veers pointed a listless finger at him. “Remind me from here on, that I am to listen to you when it comes to drinking unknown spirits.”

“I shall,” Piett said firmly, setting aside the flimsy and rising to fill his friend’s glass again.

Veers accepted it gratefully. “And Piett, can we agree that we are never discussing this incident again?”

The Captain chuckled as he settled himself near the General once more.

“I’m told, Max, that such discretion is expected of a good friend.”

A beat.   
  


“You are that,” Veers replied sincerely, and Piett smiled at the report in his hands. 

  
  



	96. Safe in my arms, You're only sleeping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leia faces horrific loss. It's not Alderaan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't often have song ideas for stories but as I was writing, this one seemed to fit somehow. Mad World Instrumental by Jennifer Ann, if the link doesn't work. :) 
> 
> And um, angst was strong here.....you know me guys.
> 
> https://music.amazon.com/albums/B01CTNMB3O?trackAsin=B01CTNLHJS

She stumbled on the frozen tundra, the dead brown grasses crushing under her knees as she knelt beside him. The others fanned out to do a sweep for any survivors, but she was rooted here. It couldn’t be….it wasn’t right….it couldn’t end like this….

She stripped off her glove and put out a trembling hand. Her tears were already bitingly cold on her cheeks as she ran her small fingers over his.

Cold. Cold as the ground she knelt upon. His brown eyes, full of mischief and warmth and love were closed. He looked almost peaceful. More so than he ever really had in life. 

_ No, her brain said. It’s wrong. This is wrong, it’s not true….. _

The cold wind swept over them, and it hurt her exposed skin but she didn’t care. 

Han. Simultaneously the love and the bane of her life. 

Dead.

She had known the moment she saw him---he would have bled out in minutes from the blaster shots to his middle. 

She needed to get up. There were others here--she could mourn him later in their quarters, oh  _ Force _ , Han...

She pushed to her feet and angrily wiped the tears blurring her vision away as she looked for Luke’s slight figure, praying she wouldn’t see it. 

But she did. She always did.

_ Wait. Always?  _

She moved to the smaller form crumpled nearby. His outstretched mechanical hand was reaching for…

...his lightsaber. There. About ten feet from him.

She picked it up and moved to him.  _ How? _ How could they have done this to her Jedi brother? His blue eyes stared up at her, somewhat dimmed now in death, and she knelt to tenderly close them. She ran a hand over his blonde hair and tried not to wince at the numerous wounds, any of which could have killed him. 

And this too baffled her.  _ How had she not felt his death? _ Surely she would have been rocked in the Force? What had happened to prevent her from sensing…..?

“Your highness?” Scraps was at her shoulder, standing tall but somehow she knew he was utterly broken. Something in his tone….the way his jaw was set and his eyes…..

His eyes were wounded to the death. 

She stroked Luke’s hair once more. How much more could she take? She bent to kiss his forehead. So very cold.

She stood and faced the young Lieutenant. She had always faced her traumas standing as tall as her petite frame allowed.

“You found them.”

Scraps nodded his own tears flowing down his face. He turned, his shoulders in that familiar defeated line, to gesture.

_ Why familiar?  _

_ “Get her there, she’s still fighting…” _

She looked up. 

“Your highness? What is it?”

She looked back at Scraps’ agonized face. 

“I just….I heard...sorry, lead on, Lieutenant.”

It started to snow---the light, lazy kind that should encourage snow ball fights and cocoa and firesides.

Instead……

Instead it landed very gently on the cuirass that had not been enough to save the life of the General who wore it. 

He had fought hard, judging from the myriad blackened areas of blaster residue in the frozen earth around him. 

His blaster rifle lay across his arm and his other….

...his other was reaching for his friend, for naturally, they were side by side. 

She saw the trickle of blood from the General’s mouth was already frozen, and his head was turned to the slight figure beside him.

She let out a small sob as she knelt again, and Scraps came to stand at her side. 

“He ah…..he must have died shortly after we landed,” he told her brokenly as she put a hand to the cheek of her Admiral and found it was still warm.

_ He would have seen their ship coming…. _

_ If they had been here only ten minutes earlier... _

His wounds were terrible, but the armor the vod’e had made for him had no doubt kept him alive as long he’d been. She lifted the ruined cuirass from his chest and winced.

His kind hazel eyes were looking skyward, not at her.

_ Never again at her. _

And she screamed her anguish and rage, knowing distantly that Scraps had retreated to give her some form of privacy. 

_ HOW HAD THIS HAPPENED? _

She bent her head to Piett’s chest, feeling the gaberwool of his uniform as she always did, and the snow was cold on her exposed neck…..

_ No. Why did she always do this? She had done this before many times….. _

_ “Losing her again! Come on damn it! We’re so close!! Up the dosage!!” _

_ “I’m trying, but I don’t want to kill her. She’s kriffing resistant!” _

She looked to the face of her Admiral, white as the various snow patches around them, and moved to close his eyes….

_ He’s not dead. _

Where had that thought come from?

_ It’s not real….. _

“Your highness,” said Scraps, placing a hand on her shoulder. “We need to….” he stopped to clear his throat. “We need to load the bodies…..”

“Your highness….”

“ _ Princess….” _

_ She had to resist. Somehow she knew….resist what? _

_ “Dispose of the bodies. Doctor, can we take those drips out?” _

She could feel Scraps’ hand on her shoulder.

But it wasn’t his.

_ “My dear….” _

Only one person called her that. But he was lying dead before her…..

_ “Keep talking to her, Admiral, I’m trying to make sense of what they were pumping into her veins…” _

_ “They were trying to implant a suggestion into her subconscious--make her a weapon to be used, but still retain her Force abilities.” _

And that...that was Luke’s voice. But she had seen his body. Touched him.

They were at it again. No. She would not break. She recalled now. How long she had been here she didn’t know. _Han_. Han had been with her. They had killed him. Now she was forced to relive the deaths of all she held dear. And now they would dangle hope in front of her. 

She would not take that bait.

She would not let them break her.

Leia opened her eyes expecting to see the cold faced doctors in their pristine white coats.

It was far, far worse.

They had upped their game indeed. 

He looked so real, hazel eyes searching hers with worry, and his hand warm on her shoulder. Behind him the General watched her carefully.

She turned her head and Henley was at her side, doing something with the drips. 

“All right,” he said, that familiar look of arrogant satisfaction on his face. “I can disconnect this, but her readings are off the charts. Keep talking to her. She needs to come out of this on her own before I administer a counter agent.”

It sounded so  _ real _ .

But they had given her the idea of rescue before only to yank it away.

“It won’t work,” she said to the not-Admiral as he carefully undid her restraints. “You will not get through like this--you’ve tried before.”

Piett looked pained, and he stepped back as she stiffly moved out of the chair she had been strapped in. 

“I know you’re not really letting me go. Or that he’s here.”

“My dear girl, I  _ am _ here. I promise you…”

She laughed bitterly, and stayed out of his reach as he extended his hand to her.

“So you’ve said many times before. This is much better, I’ll give you that. Very real.”

He glanced to Veers and that little motion was so familiar, and she desperately wanted to go to him, but it would only hurt worse when she found his body once more….

“Keep trying, Admiral,” said the Doctor behind her, his scanner out. “You’re our best shot to help her.”

“My dear,” said her Admiral ( _ Not hers! Not real!) _ taking a small step toward her. “We’re here. Your brother is helping Solo in the other room. He was given similar hallucinogens... “

“They’re dead and so are you,” Leia told him, hardening her heart at the sorrow in his eyes.

_ The real Admiral would look at her like that. Would empathize with her pain…. _

“I know you think so, dearest girl, but we’re not. The ones who hurt you  _ are _ , however.” And his voice turned cold and the hazel eyes were bright with his fury.

_ Force _ they were good. He seemed so like himself….

“I….I wish I knew how to convince you, darling girl, you have to come out of this yourself. We don’t want to hurt you…”

“Oh that’s rich,” she glared. “Over and over you have hurt me. Stabbed me to the heart every time I find all your bodies….”

She swallowed her tears. She would not weep again. 

She had her back against the wall now in every possible way. The Admiral kept his distance, but his hand outstretched to her.

“Keep trying,” not-Henley urged.

Piett let out a frustrated sigh, and rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. 

“I want to kill all of them again for this,” he told Veers, and the General smiled grimly.

“You already did that, Firmus--- help her. I know you can.”

So  _ real _ , the both of them.

He looked at her again with that direct gaze.

“Leia.”

And he  _ never _ called her that, her Admiral. His proper tones always called her ‘princess’, or ‘your highness’. More commonly, ‘dear girl’ and its variations. His naval training and protocol didn’t allow him the casual use of her given name.

“Leia, you know I don’t call you that. I can see it in your eyes.  _ They _ wouldn’t know that.”

It was true.

“That’s it, Admiral, keep it up,” the Doctor put in, looking at his scanner.

Piett took another tentative step toward her.

“Please darling. I…..I wish we had come sooner. I’m so sorry, Leia, I’m  _ sorry _ . We did try, dear girl.”

Oh it was hard. But….

“They could have found that out. Enough people are around us to know…”

“I love you, dear girl. Your brother loves you. Your smuggler. I know you don’t want to reach in the Force right now, but if you did, you would sense them….”

“NO!” she told him firmly. “You will not manipulate me. I will die first.”

He raised his hands even as he took another step. “I’m not asking it of you, Leia. I just, I wish I could help you believe me….”

His warm tenor tones were so very coaxing, and she  _ wanted _ to believe him. Wanted to move into his arms and ….

Wait. His voice. No one knew that. Well, the General did, but other than Veers….

She must not hope. But it was a good test if only to crush her hope as dead as he was.

“If...,” she began, “If you’re real, you will be able to speak to me in your ‘real’ voice.* Do you know that, Admiral? Matt called it that. You speak with him every week on holocom. If you are  _ my _ Admiral, you will know.”

She watched his face intently and noted his slight hesitation as he glanced at Henley, and at the other officers over by the entrance. 

It wasn’t him. She tried not to let the tears fall. She had  _ known _ , damn it….

“Ma darlin’, brave girl. If it will convince ya, o’ course I’ll use the rale voice.”

She froze and stared.

He smiled at her tentatively. “Not so good wi’ recreatin’ me accent then I tek it? I dinna think they would be thet skilled….”

She gave a small sob and was in his arms in a second. He was warm and alive, and his heart beat under her ear….

“Well done, Admiral,” said Henley and something hissed in her neck, and suddenly she had blessed clarity once more. 

“Dearest, bonnie girl,” her Admiral whispered, resting his head on hers and holding her close and secure, “ken ye belave it now?”

“Yes,” she told him, confident now, and then carefully she allowed herself to reach in the Force….

And the shining furnace of her brother’s Force presence was with her immediately. She sagged in relief and Piett lifted her fully into his arms, and moved to sit on a crate.

_ Luke. _

_ Leia!! Oh Leia, I was so worried. They did it then. _

_ Are you all right? She asked. _

_ Perfectly fine. I promise. Helping Han. He had the hallucinogens too. But he’ll be fine, Leia. _

_ She reached for him and felt his presence. Her smuggler. Her other half. Alive. _

_ I love you, she told her brother. _

_ I know. I’ll join you in a moment. _

She withdrew and shivered. Piett’s arms tightened around her. 

“I love you so much,” she told him, shifting to sit up more and take his face in her hands, studying him anew. “You’re exhausted.”

“He barely slept while we looked for you,” said Veers, coming to drape a blanket over her shoulders, and she looked at him gratefully. 

“Thank you, General. I…..I can’t tell you how good it is to see you as well.”

She drew the blanket closely around herself and Piett held her tightly once more.

“I….take it that they used our deaths then?” he asked carefully.

She nodded against his chest, greedily listening to his heart. 

He breathed out harshly.

“I’m so sorry, my dearest. I’m so very sorry.”

And he held her patiently until at last, Luke and the medics came into the room with Han on a gravsled. 

Bless her brother, he knew exactly what she needed and the sled stopped right beside her so she could touch Han’s face, feel his pulse and stroke the hair out of his eyes, even though he was unconscious.

Henley was uncharacteristically gentle. “He will be perfectly all right, physically, your highness. Like you, no doubt, he will need help in….other ways.”

“Let’s get on the shuttle,” Veers said impatiently, and Henley was motioning for another grav sled, but her Admiral huffed and rose with her in his arms.

“I have her,” he said, and his Force signature warmed her with his love and assurance as they walked out into grey sunlight.

“Dear girl,” he murmured as they approached the lamda. “Your Father is coming, and he will want to hear from you….”

“Of course,” she replied tiredly, already reaching in the Force….

_ Father. _

_ Leia! My daughter….are you…? _

_ I am unharmed, mostly. I will explain when I see you. But I promise I will be alright. _

_ I will kill the beings who did this. _

_ His deadly anger and intent was incredibly powerful. _

_ Well, if you can resurrect them, I wouldn’t stop you. But the Admiral already did that. _

_ Did he? I would promote him further if I could.  _

_ She sent him her amusement and he could sense her weariness. _

_ I will speak with you soon, my daughter. Are you in good hands then? _

_ She rested her head on familiar gaberwool.  _

_ The best. _

The were inside now as her Father cut their connection. Scraps was helping to guide Han’s gravsled over near the seat that Piett had chosen.

She put out a hand to stop the young Lieutenant.

“Your highness?”

“I just want you to know, and it doesn’t make sense, but….even in my hallucinations, you were a great support to me, Lieutenant. Thank you.”

She could sense his confusion even as he stuttered ‘you’re welcome’ and Piett’s approval flowed over her in the Force.

“Your highness, you should lie down now,” Henley said, coming over with a saline drip.

_ No _ . Panic spiked in her at the thought. She  _ needed _ to feel Piett’s heart, to be close to his living presence and if that was weakness so be it….

And her Admiral knew. Somehow.

“Will it cause her any medical issues if she doesn’t, Doctor?” he asked calmly as Veers seated himself on the Admiral’s other side.

Henley gave his characteristic long sigh. 

“No. But it will be hard on you, Admiral….”

Piett laughed in disbelief, and she could feel his weariness as well, but his dominant emotion was joy that he had her back.

“I assure you, it will not be, Doctor,” he said firmly as Henley prepared the drip.

He must have seen her stiffen.

“You are dehydrated, your highness, so this will help,” he explained. “I assure you it is safe.” And without warning he jabbed the needle into his own arm without a flinch. 

Veers raised his eyebrows, but she appreciated it.

“Thank you, Doctor,” she said softly as Henley withdrew the needle and placed a fresh one on the tip. Luke sat down across from them as the drip began, sending its refreshment into her veins. 

She reached for him again in the Force, and he rose to move to her and kiss her forehead, knowing that she was happy to stay in Piett’s arms. 

“I know it will take time,” he told her, blue eyes glowing with life and sincerity. “We’re all here for you.”

She knew that. She reached a hand to place on Han’s head, and was lulled by the Admiral’s heartbeat under her ear. 

But she was frightened of sleep.

Luke looked at her knowingly.

“I’ll be here. I will help the dreams” he told her. Piett’s arms tightened. 

“Me as well, my dear.”

Her people.

Leia slept.

She didn’t dream a thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And if you're jumping down here for reassurance, it IS me after all. We know I can't kill off these guys. ;)
> 
> As ever, thank you for reading. 
> 
> *The Admiral reveals his original Axxilan accent in my story We Fight For Those Who Can't. Very few people know what this sounds like, among them Leia and Veers, because Piett keeps it carefully under wraps.


	97. Rogue Agents

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A plot against the Admiral as seen through the eyes of Lieutenant Scraps and Commander Derek 'Hobbie' Klivian.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've never written from Hobbie's point of view before. It's good exercise for me to take a look through the eyes of more minor characters sometimes. Of course, this turned into a fairly epic one shot, but hopefully it's worth it. ;) 
> 
> Thanks so much for reading!

“Was there anywhere else you wanted to see, Admiral?” asked their guide, a smart young lieutenant. Scraps glanced at his commander.

Piett ran a keen eye around the vast engine bay once more. “Thank you, Lieutenant. You’ve done very well. I’ll meet up with the Captain now, and say my farewell.”

The younger officer glanced at the three ensigns with them. “Yes, sir. Umm….sir?”

Piett raised an eyebrow.

“Well, sir, our engineer thought that, if you had time, you may want to see the project he’s been working on.”

The Admiral glanced at Scraps. “Do we have time, Lieutenant?”

“You still have thirty minutes to meet the Captain, sir.”

He could see the interest in the Admiral’s face. Piett was always keen to see new projects from the fleet engineers.

“I can spare ten minutes, then, Lieutenant,” Piett said with a small smile. “Lead on.”

The Admiral was conducting fleet inspections for the next two weeks. Scraps had never accompanied him on this duty before, and was enjoying seeing the different ships and crew. He had already made a new friend on the ship from two days ago---a Togruta commander from the bridge crew of the Defiance. They had chatted and promised to stay in touch while the Captain met with the Admiral in his office.

And it had been very pleasant to spend this time with the Admiral. He enjoyed Piett’s quiet humor and easy conversation. And he was privileged to observe just how dedicated his commanding officer was to his fleet and his crews. Over the nine months that he had been leading Piett’s security detail, Scraps had learned a few things about how to best care for the Admiral. It was a mix of information gleaned from watching how the Princess and General Veers looked out for the man they considered family, as well as what Scraps himself had picked up on his own.

So, he made sure to immediately get acquainted with the head steward for each ship in order to have the right kind of tea on hand for the Admiral while he looked over reports. 

He had learned how to politely hold out his hand for the datapad in order to hand the Admiral something to eat and thus, it was a fair trade and not Scraps wresting work away from Piett. (It  _ was _ wresting work away from Piett, but it didn’t  _ look _ like it and that was the point.) 

He observed Piett as he listened with attention to what each Captain had to say on the bridge of the ship (obviously, he didn’t accompany him to the private office meetings). He watched as his Admiral’s genuine and unfailing enthusiasm for the ships under his command warmed the crew members present. 

Piett was almost always the shortest officer in whichever group he was a part of, but Scraps could see that his physical stature was not the chief thing that stood out to his officers and crew. Scraps himself was inclined to forget it.

This was the third ship they had inspected. They were to return to the Lady shortly, and General Veers had been very clear that punctuality would be appreciated.

_ “Nerf steaks wait for no man, Firmus, and I would like mine to still be warm by the time I eat it.” _

_ Piett had snorted as he placed a few more datapads into the satchel and handed it over to Scraps before casting a quick eye around his office for anything he’d missed. _

_ “You like your nerf steak still bellowing, General, so no worries there. And I don’t recall asking you to dinner.” _

_ “You didn’t. It was very rude of you so I took it upon myself to extend the invitation. I also took care of the menu for you. You’re welcome.” _

_ Piett laughed. “And I get this honor because…..?” _

_ “It’s day three of fleet review, I know how you are and would like to actually see you. Also, you need to eat more than a sandwich a day. Did you get that, Lieutenant Scraps?” _ _   
  
_

_ Veers turned to him sternly, and Scraps strove to keep his offended expression hidden. _

_ “Of course, General.” _

_ Piett smiled at him as they exited his office. _

_ “Scraps takes very good care of me, Max, and he’s doing an exceedingly commendable job at the moment in not glaring at you for the offensive remark.” _

_ “Is that so?” Veers asked, raising his eyebrows and Scraps reminded himself that he wasn’t intimidated by that still. _

_ “Not at all sir,” he replied and thought he managed to say it with relative calm.  _

_ “You see?” the Admiral said smoothly, and Veers had placed a brief hand on his friend’s shoulder as he chuckled and moved away. _

_ “I’ll see you this evening, Piett!” _

So they were almost done for the day. The Admiral could see this project, and then they would be saying farewell to the Captain and heading back to the familiar comfort of the Lady. 

Scraps walked slightly behind Piett as they moved further into engineering, and even though they were on a ship in the fleet, he made sure to apply his training from Fox, glancing around frequently for anything out of the ordinary, anything not right.

Which was why he noticed it first.

There were no engineering crew around as they moved down the broad catwalk toward the network of storage and electrical rooms near the big engines. Further he realized this was at least the fifth time that one of the ensigns had glanced nervously at the Admiral.

“Sir,” he said and everyone paused. “I apologize, but I forgot that the Captain requested you look over Bay 18. The TIE commander was interested in…..ah, your assessment.”

It was lame and no such request had been made. But something felt….off. Piett was looking at him quizzically, and Scraps was grateful that the Admiral trusted him enough to be clearly on the alert now.

“Well, apologies then, gentlemen, I….”

That was as far as he got before they were all reaching for their blasters.

Scraps had his out marginally faster, and Piett, who didn’t typically wear one on board ship, was dropping down to kick out at the nearest undefended knees, his hand to hand skills very readily available as always. 

One of the ensigns went down with a choked cry and Piett was on him in a second---two swift and accurate blows had the man out cold. 

Scraps meantime had time to get one shot off to wing the lieutenant, before he too moved to tackle another man and get in under the potential blaster shots. He bore his opponent to the catwalk even as he felt arms grasping at him. 

A bolt went by his head, and he registered that it was blue even as he kneed the stomach of the man below him, leaving him coughing helplessly.

_ They weren’t trying to kill them. They were trying to stun them. He didn’t like to think what that might mean. _

He was hauled off and he managed to grasp the wrist of one of his attackers and fling him over his head, using his body’s momentum to do so. 

Piett was a blur, fighting hard and dirty, and Scraps could only imagine the things the Admiral had faced in his life to train so hard and become this good. Even so, he was out weighed and at last it was telling on him. He had done very well at keeping out the grasp of the bigger men, darting in and causing damage, before diving out of reach and rolling out of it to deliver nasty blows to kidneys and liver. 

But he came up from one of these moves to receive a stunning hit to his mouth, and it sent him down hard. He rolled immediately, spitting blood, but a boot caught his ribs viciously and for the first time, Scraps heard him make a sound. It wasn’t until that point that he’d realized the Admiral had been fighting quietly and with deadly purpose. 

Scraps took all this in even as he moved to assist his commanding officer, scooping up his discarded blaster as he did so, and firing from his prone position, taking one man in the back. It gave Piett the opportunity to get back to his feet, but the damage had been done---he was clasping one arm tightly around his middle. Surely broken ribs from the force of that kick. 

Fury swept Scraps. This was  _ his _ Admiral. They could not have him. Not while he was breathing. Rattling on the metal catwalk behind him and he spun…..

…..to receive a terrific blow to the head at the same time as a blaster fired and he could feel the burning heat in his left side. 

He went down and things were rather like being under water for a moment. Vaguely, he registered Piett calling his name before he watched reinforcements swarm the Admiral,  _ who was still fighting. _

_ Force _ . If anyone ever wondered why his men were so devoted to him, Scraps could point them to this among other incidents. Piett did NOT give up. His odds were terrible and as the Lieutenant’s hearing came back, he winced at the muted sounds of Piett’s struggle, and the sounds of pain the Admiral made as he was subdued at last. 

One more vicious kick and Scraps wanted to kill them all for the gasping cry Piett made at that, before his commanding officer was hauled to his feet, blood covering his face and splattering his uniform as his hands were cuffed behind him.

A blaster muzzle was ground into the back of Scraps’ head and he lay very still.

“Stop now, Admiral or I will fry his brains.”

And from his half closed eyes, Scraps saw Piett stop his struggle. 

“Kriff, how hard is it? You were told to keep this quiet. We don’t want them to know he’s gone for hours.”

_ They were kidnapping his Admiral. _

_ No. _

“You weren’t here to experience their resistance, Drex! Look at this. I  _ said _ . I told you they are trained! Ever since the damned clone joined, it’s been much harder to get at them!”

“You’re making a huge mistake,” Piett said, slurring slightly through his battered mouth.

“We’re really not, Admiral. You’re worth millions of credits to the Empire. Now shut him up. He’s caused enough trouble.”

And though he couldn't see from his prone position, Scraps realized they must have drugged Piett as the man sagged in the hold of his captors.

“What about this one?”

Scraps continued to play unconscious. If he had any shot at saving the Admiral, he needed to be able to relay as much information as possible. 

“Tie him up and hide him in a utility room. We don’t want bodies or they’ll be searching hard. Keep them thinking he’s just taking a while with the inspection. Yorrick, head out and make sure to fix the security feed from when he entered the bay.”

Scraps logged this name away. 

“My bloody knee is ruined. I want you to break his.”

“You did enough damage. The Empire wants him alive.”

“We’re down pilots as well. Kriff…..”

“We’ll figure that out, Yorrick, calm down.  _ Force _ , anyone would think you’re a whiney little Jawa.”

Scraps had his hands cuffed, and he was gagged before being hauled off to a room where he was dumped.

All right. The Admiral was staying alive. They would no doubt need to find a way to get him off ship. That would take some time. Yorrick. He would remember that name.

He waited until the sound of footsteps was completely gone before moving to position himself against a console. He had taken the extra training that Commander Fox had offered. The training for the impossible situation. Among many other things that he would not be sharing with the Admiral, it had involved learning how to dislocate various joints to get out of restraints.

Scraps knew a clock was ticking for Piett. He took a deep breath and slammed his shoulder into the console.

  
  


*****

  
  


Hobbie had never been in Commander Fox’s office before. It was scrupulously tidy and spartan---things that shouldn’t surprise him he supposed. 

He and Sanders had been summoned by Fox urgently, and told to come without saying a word to anyone else. This did not bode well at all, and so he and the Captain stood together trying to calm their breathing as Fox strode in minutes after they arrived. 

He pushed a button on his desk and a ripple of energy went around the room.

“We may now speak in utmost confidence,” the clone commander said. “Two hours ago, the Fleet Admiral was taken by enemy Imperial forces.”

The room seemed to plunge into icy cold and Hobbie shivered. 

“Sir….”

Fox held up a hand. “Time is crucial here, Commander, so I will finish before you ask any questions.”

His face was mostly impassive, but his brown eyes were on fire with anger. Hobbie understood this. 

_ The Admiral…..in the hands of those who considered him the worst sort of traitor….. _

“Lieutenant Scraps was able to free himself and contact us on a secure channel. It was his belief that the Admiral was still aboard the Dauntless, and he supplied us with the name of one of the  _ demagolka _ who betrayed our commander.”

Sanders glanced swiftly at Hobbie.

“General Skywalker and his son deployed an hour ago in complete secrecy to personally question this traitor. We are keeping all of this, including the fact that the Admiral has been kidnapped, under wraps for fear of reprisal.”

Fox gripped the stun baton he’d picked up from a shelf so hard that his knuckles turned white.

“General Skywalker…... _ questioned _ this man and has given us the valuable intel that the Admiral is indeed on the ship, somewhere in the more obscure part of the engineering bays. They plan to move him with the scheduled supply transfer between Dauntless and Indefatigable on the assumption that one one will notice their transport heading somewhere else until it’s too late.”

“They intend to turn him over to the Empire for the bounty on his head. And, this is the crucial thing, they want him alive. So this is our chance. And where you come in. We are given to understand that in the struggle, Scraps and the Admiral managed significant damage to some of these..” Fox paused, clearly looking for a word filthy enough.

“Ge’hutuun, sir?” said Sanders tightly, and Hobbie looked at him with respect. He didn’t know what it meant, but it sounded right.

_ When had Sanders learned Mandoa? _ _   
  
_

“That will suffice,” Fox said nodding in approval. “It has deprived them of a pilot. So. You are going to go in and offer your services. You are with Rogue Squadron, and are known to have hated the Empire prior to the peace agreement and subsequent merging of our fleets. You are in it for the credits mostly, but don’t mind sticking it to the Admiral.”

Hobbie couldn’t help his flinch. 

“I know, Commander,” Fox said calmly, “but it needs to be believable.”

“Sir, we’re not agents in any way….” Sanders began.

“I know,” the clone interrupted, “Which is why this might have a shot. It rings true. The cover story is that you serve on the Dauntless, and you ran into Yorrick who realized that he could recruit you two.”

  
  
“Yorrick is the one we captured, sir?” asked Hobbie.

“Indeed,” replied Fox grimly.

“Is ah, is he still alive?” he pushed.

“He is. Commander Skywalker made sure. Though he likely wishes he wasn’t.” Fox sounded deeply satisfied by this.

“So.” He handed Sanders a datapad. “The route to the likely hiding spot is marked here in the layout for the Dauntless. Commander Klivian, you will pilot an Interceptor to the Dauntless as soon as you leave this office. Also,” 

Fox turned and picked up what looked like a very small blaster and pressed the muzzle to Hobbie’s neck.

“Hey! Ow!”

“This is the latest transmitter Baldwin and some of the techs have been working on. We cannot communicate with you, but we can hear everything that you do. Once you succeed in getting the Admiral out of direct harm, we will be there to back you up. Our understanding is that there are at least 15 men in on this plot.”

Hobbie whistled. “Tall order for the two of us, sir.”

Fox looked at him seriously. “You are our best shot in keeping the Admiral alive, Commander.”   
  


“All due respect, sir, why isn’t Lord Vader going in?”

“He will be, Commander,” Fox replied with some impatience. “But he will be  _ noticed _ . General Skywalker has never been  _ subtle _ . By the time he arrived, they could have killed the Admiral. You need to give the rest of us a chance.”

Hobbie tried to imagine speaking about Lord Vader in the blunt and casual way that Fox seemed able to. The man seemed to be nerveless.

“Further questions?” the commander asked and Hobbie glanced at Sanders before the two of them shook their heads.

“No, sir.”

“Then get our Admiral back. And….the Force be with you.”

“Thank you, sir,” said Sanders quietly, and they left the office.

  
  


****

  
  


It had been a tight squeeze in the Interceptor, but it had been a smooth and fast ride between the Lady and the Dauntless. 

Both he and Sanders disembarked, and Hobbie immediately pulled out the datapad with the route they needed to take.

“Come on,” he muttered, trying not to let the clock ticking in his head drive him mad. They made their way through the corridors of the Dauntless, not making eye contact with anyone if they could help it---both of them striving to present surly ‘don’t talk to me’ dispositions. 

Hobby had not felt quite like this before. Oh sure, he’d had nerves, he was a fighter pilot for kriff’s sake. He’d faced two Death Stars and numerous run ins with the Imperial fleet among other incidents of excitement in his life. 

But…...he wasn’t interested in undercover work for a reason. He would be terrible. Subtlety wasn’t really his strong suit. But apparently, Commander Fox felt that he was right for this mission. No big deal. It’s only the Fleet Admiral’s life on the line. What was that thunderous noise? 

He glanced around the corridor they were walking down for a moment before realizing the noise was his own heartbeat echoing in his head.

“Keep it together,” Sanders murmured to him as they made another turn. “No one knows what’s happening at this point. We’re not on an enemy ship or something.”   
  


“Jackson, if we screw this up….”   
  


“I know,” Sanders whispered back. “So we’re not going to.”

Hobby was positive his friend wasn’t feeling as confident as he was letting on, but one of them had to lie to the other about it, so he appreciated it.

At last they approached the area that the hapless Yorrik had told Lord Vader about.

Moment of truth. Had the man been lying? Hobbie didn’t even know if it was possible to lie to a pissed of Sith Lord. Ex. Whatever. Given what had happened to Piett, he had no problem if Vader wanted to let a little Sith leak through on the traitorous bastard that was willing to sell out the Admiral. 

They looked around to see if they were being observed, but aside from the occasional red droid or mouse droid, they were alone in this far part of the ship. Sanders lifted a hand and pounded on the closed steel hatch. Apparently this was one of many utility rooms which mostly housed coolant pipes and air conduits.

They waited a moment and Hobbie tried to keep his breathing under control. Sanders pounded forcefully once more and Hobbie tried not to let images of a blaster to the head of the Admiral flood his mind. 

The door opened and an officer stuck his head out.

_ This was it. _

“What the kriff do you want? We’re working!”

Sanders managed to look impossibly cool. 

“No you’re not. Besides, we were sent here.”

The man gave them both a hard stare.

  
  
“Well good for you, but I don’t know why you would be…..”

“Yorrik sent us,” Hobbie said.

The man drew in a breath. 

“Said you needed pilots for some ‘special’ cargo,” Sanders told him. “We’re it.”

“Where’s he then?”   
  


“Said you had him doctoring security feeds, and providing the cover you needed. And pilots apparently.”

The man turned partially as though listening to someone inside.

“You need to come in here to discuss this.” He eyed their blasters on their hips. “No funny business.”

“I’m here to get credits,” Hobbie said easily, surprised at how steady his own voice sounded.

“Hmm.”

They followed him inside.

The room was dim, illuminated mostly by track lighting along the floor and ceiling. There were numerous men leaning against the walls or sitting on some of the stacked storage crates. Hobbie didn’t see the Admiral in his first glance and tried to quell the sickening fear in his gut.

_ Were they too late? Had they moved him already? Was he actually dead? _   
  


“I want to hear exactly who you are and why Yorrik asked you.”   
  


Hobbie was acutely aware that the men against the wall on either side of them were resting their hands on their blasters.

“I’m Sanders. That’s Klivian. We were Rogue Squadron before we merged with you kriffers.”   
  


Several men frowned.

“Hey. You want it straight, I’m giving it to you,” the Captain said, and Hobbie was impressed by his friend’s cool.

“Me and Klivian have no love for the Empire. We have even less love for our own people deciding to play nice with you all. So we’re pretty done. Yorrik knows that. We want out. He said this is lucrative enough for us to retire nicely on some tropical planet. So our chief concern is---how much does this job pay and I’ll sell you my grandmother to get out of here.”

A few grim smiles.

“Ok, I can appreciate an honest hatred. Mutual  _ Rogue Squadron _ . We don’t need your grandmother either. The bounty is 23 million credits.”

Hobbie whistled. “Bounty? On who?”  _ He hoped that sounded the right amount of curious. _

And two of the men standing by some crates, reached behind them to haul up a limp figure….

….one who was apparently just coming around.

He was hauled forward roughly, and shoved to his knees on the deck in front of them.

Hobbie bit his tongue hard, the pain allowing him to frown furiously, when all he wanted to do was draw his blaster and end every son of a Hutt in the room.

Piett’s uniform jacket was covered in blood, most of which was likely from his nose and head given the state they were both in. He’d clearly been beaten to hell, though given the injuries visible on a number of his captors, he’d given at least as good as he got.

He seemed groggy, no doubt the results of the drug Scraps had been sure he’d been hit with. 

The Admiral’s hands were in binders behind his back. Hobbie immediately began to scan the room carefully for the officer with the code cylinder for those as Sanders spoke. 

“Are you insane? You’re…...you’re kidnapping the  _ Admiral _ ??  _ Vader’s _ Admiral?” he asked in disbelief, and Hobbie was deeply impressed with his level of acting.

“Have you heard anyone even being concerned yet about his whereabouts?” asked the man who had let them in.

“Well, no…..” Hobbie said, watching Piett who had managed to lift his head enough as he spoke to look at his face.

_ Come on, Admiral _ , he thought.  _ It took all of them plus a drug to get you down. We’re here now... _

The Admiral’s face was a mess. A deep cut ran across his left cheekbone and his right eye was purple and blue--he might be able to see out of it. Purple bruising on his chin and of course the broken nose. 

But even as Hobbie watched, recognition flashed into the unswollen left eye and Piett straightened ever so slightly, though the way he was holding himself even in his kneeling position likely meant broken ribs. Scraps had been right.

One of the men standing next to their captive was speaking and Hobbie drew his attention back to him. 

“.....before they realize that he’s missing and not just delayed in the inspection. So you need to get a ship authorized.”

“I can do that,” Sanders said calmly. 

“So how many ways are we splitting this bounty? And who’s paying it?” Hobbie asked as callously as he could, still meeting Piett’s gaze.

_ Stay with me, Admiral. You need to be ready to move. _

“About 1.2 million credits each. The Empire is looking foward to killing him very slowly indeed for his betrayal.”

Beside him, Hobbie felt Sanders stiffen, and no doubt for the same reason Hobbie himself was feeling sick.

They were knowingly selling Piett to torment and death.

The man himself raised his chin slightly in that familiar defiant move and spoke at last. 

“Do your worst.”

“Shut up,” snarled the man next to him, backhanding him, but not enough to send Piett to the deck. And Hobbie realized it was this man who had the code cylinder he needed.

“Looks like he did some damage to you before you got him,” he commented, smiling as obnoxiously as possible.

“Yes, well look where it got the little shrimp,” shot back the bastard that had hit the Admiral. 

Piett was straightening, but his eyes (well, eye) were clear now and he was watching Hobbie closely. 

“I don’t know,” Hobbie said, inclining his head ever so slightly toward the man. Piett brought his chin down in an almost imperceptible nod. “I’ve heard he has a mean tackle.”

Piett raised an eyebrow at him and suddenly Hobbie grinned at him openly.

It was time.

“Care to demo, Admiral?”

And as he spoke he pulled his blaster and fired rapidly, Sanders doing the same. Piett dove to the side and knocked the man who’d hit him to the deck. Hobbie was on him a moment later, snatching the code cylinder as Sanders kept firing and Hobbie grabbed the Admiral by one arm, hauling him backward toward the door.

“Go!” he yelled at Sanders as he wrenched it open, and returning fire started lancing their way.

He and Piett staggered to the corridor outside as Sanders came on their heels firing behind him before turning and waving a hand at them.

“Time to run!”   
  


Hobbie was really hoping that those listening to the sounds in his implant were on their way.

They sprinted around a corner and Hobbie skidded to a rapid stop.

“Klivian…” Piett began, but Hobbie couldn’t waste time to explain, applying the code cylinder to the binders on the Admiral’s wrists, leaving them to drop to the deck before he urged them into action once more. 

He could see the broad catwalk at the end of the corridor.

Blaster fire was splattering all round them now, one shot narrowly missing Sanders.

“Kilvian!” gasped Piett and Hobbie felt badly, could hear the Admiral’s labored breathing. He was practically dragging his commander now.

“Sir, we have to keep going!!”

“I can’t, Commander. Stop…..as soon as we…..get to the catwalk…”

“Sir….!”

“And let me….have the blaster….”

_ What?  _

But Hobbie knew the Admiral well enough now to trust that he knew what he was doing. 

They made it to the broad catwalk, and the massive open space of the engine bay. Piett took a knee to the side of the entrance and Hobbie handed him the blaster.

“Sanders!” barked the Admiral. “Keep a standing position. Fire when I say.”   
  


Battered and beaten and still fighting. Hobbie felt profound awe at the slight powerhouse kneeling next to him. 

The sounds of pursuing footsteps got louder.

“Now!” yelled Piett ducking around and Sanders obeyed, both of them firing rapidly.

Cries and shrieks echoed, and Piett was reaching back to Hobbie who gave him a hand up without being asked.

“What’s the fallback from here?” the Admiral asked, looking at the huge open space.

“We were told to get you out Admiral,” Hobbie said as they moved up the walkway, more slowly as the Admiral was clearly not doing well with the ribs. “Beyond that, we’re winging it until back up comes. Also, I could have fired at them!”   
  


“Due respect…...Hobbie,” Piett panted, “but you yourself have said….you’re better in the cockpit than with a blaster.”

_ He remembered that? It had been a throwaway one time when the Rogues had insisted that they stand the Admiral some drinks. _

Sanders leaned over the rail of the catwalks swiftly. Hobbie could see personnel around the bay looking up at the conflict, but they wouldn’t be able to reach them in time to do anything.

“What are you thinking?” he called as he and Piett ducked out of the way of more shots.

“Just wondering if we could swing down….”   
  


Piett gave a breathless chuckle. “We’re not Jedi, Sanders….”

“Very true, Admiral,” came deep tones and---  _ where _ ?  _ Where _ had they come from???

Hobbie wasn’t complaining. Just….Jedi stealth was astonishing. It was even more astonishing as he watched Lord Vader and Luke land side by side in front of their small group, simultaneously throwing their hands out to send the traitorous kriffers flying back down the catwalk.

“Look alive, Klivian,” came Fox’s voice and he turned to see the familiar red helmet as the Commander moved by them leading…..was that the entirety of the 501st? Because it  _ felt _ like it even if it wasn’t. They thundered up the walkway after the two black clad Jedi, clearly keen to be in on this action. 

Piett was sagging against him heavily now, and Hobbie helped him slide down to a sitting position against the railings as the last of the Admiral’s adrenaline left him. 

“Well, we’re good now, sir. Just hold on.”

Piett nodded, rather spent, and gripped Hobbie’s arm firmly as if anchoring himself. Hobbie shifted slightly to sit next to him, which he did as Sanders stood protectively above them. Moments later a figure was trotting back up the walkway toward them, blaster rifle in ready position and Hobbie realized that he had missed General Veers among the 501st.

The man came to kneel in front of them, handing his rifle off to Sanders without looking. 

“A fleet inspection, Admiral, for kriff’s sake. And we end up with a warzone on our own ship with our own men.”

And Piett smiled as much as his battered mouth allowed as the General placed a careful hand on his friend's shoulder.

“You’re not going to….insist on coming for these now, are you?”

“Damn straight I am.”

Hobbie snorted in amusement and Veers looked at him for the first time.

“Klivian. I still think you’re an ass.”

“Yes, sir,” he replied with a straight face.

“But I’m rather impressed. Well done, Commander.”   
  


And he clapped him heavily on the shoulder. 

Hobbie wasn’t quite sure what to do with that approval. 

****

Twenty-four hours later Hobbie found himself outside the quarters he’d been directed to by the medic from sickbay. He was rather confused—- he’d been looking for the Admiral, but had been sent here instead. 

The doors hissed open, and Hobbie was faced with a roomful of people he hadn’t expected. 

He found Luke’s eyes first and latched onto that kind blue gaze. 

“Hey Hobbie! I thought I sensed you out there.”

“Um…. I was told the Admiral was here and I just wanted to see how he was….”

“You and everyone else,” Luke said, grinning at his bewilderment and drawing an arm around his shoulders to bring him further into the room. It had clearly been regular quarters at one point, but had been equipped with three beds in addition to the sofa and chairs scattered around.

His friend could read his puzzlement as always.

“Apparently, Doctor Henley set this up pre-Endor for various Senior officers that seem to get themselves in bad situations frequently…”

“Careful, Skywalker,” said Veers from his place in a comfortable chair by one of the beds and Hobbie realized that at last he had found the Admiral. “Jedi are hardly ones to talk.”

Piett was sitting up and….was….the Admiral in a sweatshirt? Hobbie’s brain shorted slightly, having figured that Imperials like Piett and Veers were in uniform 24/7.

The Admiral looked worlds better, having clearly spent time in bacta, and while there was still bruising evident on his face, he was no longer holding himself in that rigid way that indicated pain.

Instead he was the most relaxed Hobbie had ever seen, and whether that had more to do with the people in the room with him rather than the painkillers, the Commander wasn’t in a position to say.

“I ah….I just wanted to see how you…” he stuttered, realizing that not only was the ever intimidating General Veers present, the princess must have returned from her diplomatic mission and was seated on Piett’s other side. 

“Your highness,” he managed and she smiled graciously at him, causing his brain to short once more. 

_ Didn’t every Rogue pilot have a bit of a secret crush on Princess Leia Organa? _

“Commander Klivian,” said a voice behind him and Lord Vader came into view.

_ Oh kriff, oh kriff, he can read minds and she’s his daughter….. _

“Um….”

_ Why for the love of the galaxy hadn’t Sanders warned him? He’d visited the Admiral a few hours ago and he hadn’t said anything about the VIP family gathering….. _

He’d set him up. 

He could tell by Luke’s wide grin across the room. 

Well. Never let it be said that Commander Derek Klivian turned and fled.

“My Lord,” he said, hoping that didn’t sound as gasping as it did to his ears.

He was reasonably sure Veers was openly enjoying his discomfort. 

“Admiral, I’m sorry to interrupt the ah….family gathering….” and for some reason Piett smiled brightly at him for that and so did the princess, “I just wanted to see that you were recovering well….”

“Hobbie.” Piett was calm as ever. “I owe you my life. You are not interrupting anything. I do however, believe I owe you and Captain Sanders another commendation. Along with Lieutenant Scraps here.”

And Hobbie recognized the head of Piett’s security detail, standing quietly by the princess. The Admiral shot the man a quick glance full of gratitude.

Piett held out his hand and Hobbie stepped up to shake it, feeling weirdly as though he was at a ceremony for the oath of fealty or something. 

Which.

Maybe it was. Hobbie had long decided that he was very proud and happy to serve in the fleet Piett commanded. But he had been ready to put his life on the line for the man only yesterday. He was content to do so in future as well.

“What about the rest of us, Firmus?” the General asked as Hobbie stepped back. “I could use another medal.”

The Admiral snorted. “Please, Max. You hate wearing them. But I do owe all of you.”

“Did we catch all of the traitors, my Lord?” Hobbie found himself bold enough to ask.

“The ones left alive, yes indeed,” said his Lordship with deep satisfaction evident in his face and voice. 

“What happened to the rest?” he asked curiously.

“They fell off the catwalk,” his Lordship intoned. “Several times.”

Luke sighed to the right of him, but Hobbie met the princess’s eyes and found the same satisfaction in her countenance.

Hobbie had to admit he felt more sympathy with their position than Luke’s, the image of that bastard backhanding his Admiral fresh in his mind. 

He pulled back to join Luke as Lord Vader stepped in to speak with his Admiral.

“You got us involved in some bizarre situations, Luke, when you and your Father made your secret plans to overthrow the Emperor.”   
  


“Yeah?” Luke asked, crossing his arms and grinning at him. “Having second thoughts?”

Hobbie watched an Admiral he would have shot without a second thought five years ago, holding the hand of a princess who was the symbol of hope for so many.

“The opposite actually,” Hobbie told him. “Grateful to be part of the insanity is all.”

“You did good, Hobbie,” Luke said, clapping his shoulder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mean, by my standards this was practically fluff right? ;)


	98. Not absolution but understanding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anakin tells Leia exactly what happened on Mustafar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been toying with this conversation for awhile. I think they're both in a place that we're ready. 
> 
> On a much less serious note, I would like it to be recognized that they all went to a planet and I did not injure ONE SINGLE PERSON. xD 
> 
> Thank you. Please carry on.

Anakin watched his daughter, hoping he was shielding his Force presence enough to not be detected. He just wanted to watch her without , well, his existence affecting her. 

She was perched on the broad window seat, a warm throw over her knees as she sipped from her mug and watched the stunning winter landscape outside. 

`

Her part in the intensive three day visit to this planet was done, and she could rest now as the others wrapped up their various tasks.

One of the planetary governors had graciously lent all of them his spectacular vacation home in the foothills so this visit, while busy, had also been a much appreciated time for all of them to be together without interruptions or different duty schedules.

Anakin had already had the pleasure of seeing his son, the Jedi commander and crack pilot, _lose_ in a snowball fight to Solo because he had promised not to use the Force. Anakin privately thought this was a stupid agreement, but his son hadn’t minded in the least, coming up laughing and red cheeked, blonde hair tousled and clumped with snow.

Happy.

Luke had been so uninhibitedly happy. He was reminded again how young his child was. Luke’s biggest experience with snow had been the horror fest that was Hoth, so this soft and pleasant landscape with skiing vacationers and children playing was a very far cry from that.

Even Veers, for whom snow would forever be at best something to be tolerated, had smiled more than Anakin had seen in some time.

Solo had attempted a sleigh ride with his daughter, which had apparently (and inevitably) turned into a speed competition and they returned coated in snow and soaking wet. His daughter had stalked into the house without a word, and Anakin didn’t even try to hide his superior look at Solo’s failed romantic attempt. 

Leia had gone cross-country skiing with Piett later in the afternoon, and returned (also inevitably) in much better spirits. Anakin rather had a feeling that Solo owed something to the Admiral.

Solo and Luke had left earlier this morning to meet with the head of trade and tour the factory that produced snow speeders for much of this sector. Anakin had secretly been tempted to go as well, but didn’t want to push himself in. It had been such a relief to just be ‘Anakin Skywalker’ to these people, many of whom didn’t put that together with ‘Darth Vader’. 

The General and the Admiral had come down two hours ago to conduct a fleet review of the ice ships. Piett had been rather amusingly keen. Because these ships were an aquatic fleet. As Anakin’s reserved Admiral had opened up more to them, he had discovered that Piett’s passion for ships extended to more than just the starships.

_ Piett and Veers were both clad in their heavy Imperial issue overcoats and warmer winter caps as they came down the broad staircase. _

_ “....and apparently the prow of each ship is coated in a special polymer from the next system over. It’s perfect for slicing through the ice like a lightsaber, it’s that sharp. I’m curious how they managed before they got it because obviously, the ice is incredibly thick and they didn’t have access to Kendula until about two centuries ago so…”  _

_ Piett was tugging on his gloves, and Veers looked over to catch Anakin’s eye as his friend enthused. They smiled at each other. Anakin recalled many missions where the Admiral had said barely two words because Anakin hadn’t cared to hear anything other than what pertained to the job.  _

_ A far cry from the animated man in front of him, unafraid to show this part of himself. _

_ Leia had come over to bid them farewell, and surveyed them with her hands on her hips. _

_ “I will say you two cut quite a fine picture of well turned out officer material,” she told them smiling. “Don’t forget scarves. The wind will be like knives on the water.” _

_ “Worth it,” commented Piett taking one from her and wrapping it neatly around his neck before tucking the ends into the overcoat. “The wind on my face from the deck of a ship…..” _

_ “Are we going to lose you from the stars, Admiral?” Veers had asked with a grin. _

_ Piett had snorted in derision. “Max, please. I love all ships, but I belong on the Lady.” _

_ “Yes, you do, dearest Admiral,” his daughter said, accepting an easy embrace from the man before they left. _

And weirdly that had left the two of them on their own in this lovely house. 

He had kept his distance, but had at last come down from his room to get some caf and there she was.

Such a similar profile to Padme’. Darker hair, which was currently done up in loose waves rather than her usual braids, and that too, reminded him strongly of her mother.

She looked relaxed, and her lips were curved in a small smile as she watched some children playing with dogs down the slope below them. 

How he longed to join her. To embrace her as easily as Piett could. But while she had forgiven him the awful wrongs he had done her, she could never forget and neither could he. 

She turned her head suddenly, and looked right at him.

“I know you’re there. You don’t have to lurk, Father. I can be in the same room as you, you know.”

He took his caf from the machine and moved to sit in one of the large chairs by the cheerful fire.

“What were you thinking about there?” she asked him. “You were so…...sad.”

_ What a terribly inadequate word. _

“I ….you looked very like your mother there.”

A pause between them. Delicate territory.

He felt the moment she made a decision and braced himself. He would always answer whatever she wanted to know. No matter the cost to himself.

“You said some time back, that she died in childbirth. That you helped heal that young mother to prevent the same thing.” *

“Yes.”

“Were you there?” his daughter asked.

_ Oh Leia, how I wish that I had been. I should have been. To have held you both in my arms as tenderly as that mother held her tiny baby. The love in the look that his wounded father had given him when handed his son for the first time. _

“No,” he whispered hoarsely. Kriff it was so painful--- like sand rubbed on a wound.

“I should have been. But….”

“So you never held us as babies,” Leia said, looking down into her mug. “I must confess I’m relieved. I….the idea of you holding us and then rejecting us for the Dark Side is….”

Repellant. Because had he done that---had he held two tiny bundles that he and Padme’ had created, Anakin knew he could not have fallen as he did.

He knew quite suddenly that it was time to tell Leia exactly how her mother had died. Allow her to judge him. She couldn’t be harsher than he was in judging himself. 

“Leia,” he began, making sure he had her attention. “You accused me some time ago of murdering your mother.” *

She flushed. “I know and I realize that’s not exactly….”

He raised a hand. “I know you were angry, my daughter. You had that right. But….while I denied it, I think you are ultimately, correct.”

She drew in a sharp breath and objects in the room rattled slightly. Then she pulled herself together.

“All right, Father.” She raised those luminous brown eyes to his. “Tell me how it happened.”

“I had….already severely compromised myself, Leia in service to Palpatine. I did...unspeakable things….”

_ “Master Skywalker. There are too many of them.” _

He closed his eyes against that memory and a tear trickled down his cheek.

“I was on Mustafar when Padme’ came to find me.”

“But….it’s so volcanic and dangerous…”

He nodded and felt her growing realization concerning some of his injuries.

“ _ Father _ ,” she breathed.

“Do not feel too much sympathy for me, my daughter. Unbeknownst to Padme’…..Obi-Wan had stowed away on her ship to reach me as well.”

The agony was threatening to overwhelm him again but he breathed through it. Leia needed to know.

“I…..accused her of being unfaithful. I was so angry. I, the great betrayer, was angry at her  _ perceived _ betrayal. The two most faithful people in my life and I….”

Leia’s eyes were huge, but otherwise her face was unreadable.

“I started to choke her,” he was whispering now, could feel that slender throat in his Force grasp….

“Obi-Wan managed to snap me out of it, but she was unconscious. I fought Obi-Wan.”

_ How simplistic for the battle that had raged over magma flows and spurting lava.  _

“And Leia….oh Force.”

_ Face it Anakin. _

“He didn’t want to. He tried so hard to bring me back to the Light. But in the end….in the end I was a rage blind fool and he cut off my legs and arm.”

He felt her revulsion in the Force. Her horror. He couldn’t look at her. Not yet.

“I was badly burned as you can guess. Palpatine saved me. Found me. I wish, how I wish, I had died there that day. Saved the suffering of billions....”

He placed his head in his hands. 

“Would it have, though?” 

He looked up at her.

“Father….Force knows all the evil you have done. But….” She sighed. “I can’t believe I’m acting like your defense attorney here but, I too have had a lot of time to think about all of this.” She rose and set the throw down and came to stand before the fire. 

“If you had died, would that have stopped Palpatine from his drive to submit the galaxy to his will?”

“Not at all.”

“Were there other Sith he could have utilized to carry out his orders?”

“Yes.”

“We can’t escape what you actually did, that is true. But Father, if you think that your death would have stopped  _ any _ of those atrocities….I think you are sorely mistaken. Palpatine would have done it all just the same. You should not place more than your already considerable amount of blame on your shoulders. How did you find out that mother died in childbirth?”

“He told me I killed her. It wasn’t until I found out about Luke that I realized….”   
  


“ _ Force _ I wish I could kill that bastard again. He let you live for nearly 20 years thinking you had actively killed your wife.”   
  


She meant it. Her fury at Sidious was powerful. And….it was on behalf of his suffering. Something in his battered and scarred heart was given balm. That his daughter, whom he had tortured and tormented, could wish to wreak vengeance on his behalf on the monster who had wounded him so deeply…

He looked at her face at last. 

“You thought I would reject you again,” she said bluntly and kriff yes, she was his daughter.

“You have that right. I never want you to feel that I have not been honest with you on all fronts…”

She folded her arms. “Thank you. It is true that you were in many ways responsible for her death. I cannot deny that and I can see you don’t either.”

He held her eyes.

“Please don’t think though Father, that even now your death would somehow be better. The group of people who are here, would not be if you had not lived to defy the Emperor. I confess I am not in a place where I want to list all your good deeds to you, but I can say that at least.”

It was more than generous.

She moved to pick up her mug and take it to the kitchen. 

It was at this juncture that Piett and Veers returned in an icy blast of air and good spirits---the Admiral glowing both from the cold, and from the joy of reviewing the ice fleet, Veers appreciating his friend’s happiness.

Anakin knew he sensed immediately that something rather intense had happened, but Piett had long practice in keeping his mouth shut at the right times and merely shrugged out of his winter things to join Veers by the fire and accept a steaming mug from Leia.

His daughter was still feeling raw herself, and she snugged into Piett’s side on the sofa closest to the blazing logs as soon as he sat down. He put an arm around her and Anakin was grateful for his Admiral once more.

Both of them listened to Piett and Veers recount their experience and Anakin met her eyes.

_ Thank you, he sent to her. _

_ And you. _

  
  
  


_ “What the heart has once owned and had, it shall never lose”  _

_ Henry Ward Beecher _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * A Relatively Quiet Week by the very talented Mathmusic8
> 
> * Forging Ahead, Chapter 11
> 
> And given the serious nature of this story, I came across this quote and loved it as a writer. Thought it might strike a chord with some of you. :) 
> 
> The very essence of literature is the war between emotion and intellect, between life and death. When literature becomes too intellectual - when it begins to ignore the passions, the emotions - it becomes sterile, silly, and actually without substance.
> 
> Isaac Singer


	99. The Man in the Machine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vader is dangerously obsessive in his quest to capture his son. His men just try to survive it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is for Germanspeaker who requested a fic from the time period when Vader is Luke hunting.
> 
> It's a great period to write and I haven't done it for a little while. Certainly not this grittier side of things. So this is a quest very shortly before Empire Strikes Back, where Veers and Piett and others are just trying to keep their heads down and their men alive.
> 
> Thanks Germanspeaker for the prompt! :)

Piett wanted to hate Luke Skywalker.

He really, really wanted to.

Four days. Four days they had been fighting. Horrifically outnumbered---their intell had been absolute and utter rubbish for the Rebel numbers. Lord Vader had taken their small hand picked group to hunt for the damned pilot, having been assured that Skywalker was on a mission away from the main fleet. 

Either their intell had failed miserably (in which case those responsible were very dead) or there were traitors in the ranks (who would also be very dead). 

Even a Sith Lord couldn’t hold off several thousand Rebels. And once said Rebels had realized just who was on planet, they had fought more fiercely---quite clearly determined to kill or capture Lord Vader. 

No matter the casualties. 

Piett sank slowly and stiffly onto the upturned weapons crate, setting his blaster rifle nearby. 

And the real kicker for him in all of this, Piett reflected, was that he couldn’t hate the Rebels.

He should.

Captain of the flagship. Hand picked by Lord Vader himself. Loyal Imperial. 

But he could not hate them. At least, not all of them and not anymore. He had experienced Skywalker himself protecting him when he had nearly caught the elusive Jedi once before. His companions had been keen to kill or interrogate Piett. Skywalker had personally intervened. *

And of course, only Max knew about the Rebel pilots who had caught him, and then  _ let him go _ when they and Piett had to work together to get off the planet they were stranded upon. *

So Piett was conflicted. He knew rationally, that the pilots were unlikely to be among those he was fighting at the moment. They were Rogues after all and not ground troops. 

Whether Skywalker was actually here….he wasn’t sure. He hadn’t dared ask Lord Vader. His commander was in a dangerous mood, and it didn’t take a Force sensitive to know that. He rather suspected the young Jedi _was_ here, given some of the things he’d seen happen on the battlefield. 

Of course, Piett himself didn’t want to think too hard about why  _ he _ was here in the first place. He was navy for kriff’s sake! Ozzel had turned a gratifying shade of puce it was true, when Lord Vader had informed him he was taking Piett on the mission. But even the amusing colors the Admiral could turn were not enough to make this worth it in the Captain’s mind.

He understood from Vader’s curt orders that he was trusted. And….not that long ago, such trust would have meant more. 

Now, however…..

Now it was a burden and a curse. They sent out probe droids daily around the galaxy. Piett himself reviewed all data sent back by the droids--not willing for his crew to miss anything and potentially bear the increasingly ill tempered consequences of his Lordship’s disappointment. They were hunting the new Rebel base, but Piett knew with certainty that Lord Vader was hunting Skywalker. The search for the Rebel base was a means to an end. 

The Lady herself seemed tense. Piett had no reason to know that of course. But her lights rarely gave him the warm, happy shades she had done in the beginning of his captaincy. And that grieved him. 

It had not been a good parting. She had gone between her shades for fear, anger and sadness frequently. He had wondered what she might be communicating to Lord Vader. Force only knew what the two of them spoke of. 

He was roused from his all too brief reverie by a respectful, ‘sir?’

He looked up at the face of a young trooper from Veers’ Herd. 

“I’m sorry Trooper, what did you say?”

“Sir, I said General Veers sent me to find you and bring you to him.”

“Ah, yes. Thank you……”

“I’m Hestin, sir.”

“Thank you, Hestin.”

Piett wasn’t sure why he bothered to learn names of the men he served with, whether on the bridge or away missions. He supposed it was because if they were going to die, someone should know their names. 

He limped after the younger man through the gathering gloom of the evening, wondering where Veers had ended up and also where Lord Vader was. 

“Have you had something to eat, Trooper?” he asked because it was habit for him to make sure his men were functioning, even if, in this case, the young man in front of him wasn’t technically his. 

The trooper looked back at him in mild surprise. “Ah, not yet, Captain, but I’ll grab a ration bar.”

Piett nodded. “Need to keep your strength up.”

“Thank you Hestin,” came a familiar voice as Piett neared the small group of AT-STs. They hadn’t brought anything larger as it hadn’t been deemed necessary. Veers had already lost four of these smaller walkers.

The trooper saluted and moved off as the General put his hands on his hips and surveyed Piett.

“Did I really just catch you admonishing Hestin to eat, my exceedingly hypocritical friend?”

Piett was glad it was getting darker to hide his flush. 

“He needs to.”

“As do you. Which is why I had him fetch you, so that works out. Come over here.”

Veers turned back toward the center of the little group of AT-STs where a small fire was going.

“Can we risk that?” Piett asked.

Veers shot a small smile over his shoulder. “I appreciate your caution, Captain, but we’re fairly certain the Rebels need a break too. We’ll risk it for a few hours.”

The General indicated a crate and Piett sat once more, slightly fearing he wouldn’t be able to rise again.

Veers handed him a self heating ration and both of them ate in silence for a few minutes, the fire making muted popping noises, and sending tiny flurries of angry sparks into the air.

Piett pulled out his canteen and took a deep drink. He felt grimy and disgusting with sweat and mud. He was aware his uniform and boots must look similar to Veers’---coated in layers of mud and grime and blood in some spots. He had tried to pull a wounded trooper back, but the poor sod hadn’t made it.

The man’s blood was a grim memorial on the sleeves and leg of his uniform. 

He glanced around and saw that they had relative privacy.

“Veers,” he said, needing to voice the thought that had been burning his brain the last two days. “We can’t keep doing this. If reinforcements don’t come in the next 24 hours….”

“Piett,” his friend said warningly, “Voicing those thoughts at the moment could get you killed.  _ He _ isn’t interested in hearing it.”

Both of them knew who ‘he’ was.   
  


But Piett had never been one to sit back and give up.

He sighed and set his empty ration tin down between his feet before leaning his elbows on his knees and looking across at his friend in the orange glow.

“Max, we need to discuss surrender for the sake of our men. Otherwise they will continue to be slaughtered. You know this. We are hopelessly and ridiculously outnumbered.”

“Yes, Firmus, I know,” Veers replied in a low, fierce tone. “But you and I both know how he’ll react. I refuse to allow you to throw your life away. And I also need to stay alive so I can give my troops a fighting chance...”   
  


“General. Captain.”

Piett had wondered for some time now, just how it was that a hulking Sith Lord with a respirator could be so very silent when he wanted to. And there was no mistaking those deep tones.

He and Veers rose immediately to attention, and Piett was keenly aware of just how filthy and dishevelled they were.

His Lordship bore the marks of their desperate four days battle as well. The bottom of the cape was filthy as were Lord Vader’s black boots. Somehow though, he managed to give the impression that these were mere minor inconveniences---that he could brush off the loss of their men and this awful situation as easily as he could the crusted mud.

“We need to move our forces to higher ground. Tonight, while the Rebels rest.”

Piett dared to shoot a small glance at Veers.

Their men were at the end of their stamina. A forced march? At night after all they’d been through?   
  


Piett’s sense of obligation to his men won. He knew Veers was silently willing him not to speak. But he must. Lord Vader had allowed it before--had seemed to encourage Piett to give his input. 

“My Lord, our men are exhausted. Can we spare them three hours respite?”

That helmet just angled itself at him for a long silent moment, the firelight reflecting in the lenses.

Life or death. Piett faced it constantly---more so as the Executor's Captain.

“We cannot, Captain,” said Lord Vader at last. “They will overwhelm us if they come upon us here.”

He turned, the cape swirling as though he was drawing the night to himself. 

“My Lord...” Piett began.

“Firmus!” hissed Veers. 

Vader stopped, but did not turn back.

“How long do you anticipate this mission to last?”

“You wish to know if all of you will die here,” Vader replied unerringly. 

He took a breath. “Yes, my Lord.”

The helmet canted partially back at him.

“Not if my orders are followed, Captain. Get the men moving.”

And he was gone into the night.

“Piett.”

Veers was watching him as Piett turned back to his friend.

“I just aged twice over. Please don’t do that again.”   
  


“I had to try, Max.”

The General sighed. “I know. And I had to try and stop you. Story of our lives at the moment. Let’s round up our people.”

  
  


*****

Accordingly, their band of stragglers trudged through the darkness, the remaining AT-STs on either side of them to keep people from getting lost in the pitch black of this Force awful planet. 

Veers had offered him a lift in one of his metal beasts, but Piett didn’t feel right about that when his men couldn’t do the same.

Veers had bluntly pointed out that Piett’s men had a far longer stride than he did and were trained for this sort of trekking. 

Piett had folded his arms and glared at his friend.

_ “Oh kriff,” Veers sighed, running a hand through his grimy hair before putting his helmet back on. “I just activated stubborn bastard mode didn’t I? Firmus, I promise I wasn’t trying to be insulting. We need you capable of thinking well with that very strategic brain of yours. You need to rest.” _

_ “I could say the same to you,” Piett shot back, knowing he was tired and in a foul mood and thus not being particularly fair.  _

_ “I am riding in one of these, Captain. It will afford some recuperation.” _

_ “Good. Then when we reach the high ground, I will take a turn, General.” _

_ Veers held his eyes for a few seconds, and Piett felt guilty. _

_ “Look I appreciate it, Max, I’m sorry. I just….I need to walk. I’m exhausted and restless at the same time. So let me at least put that to good use.” _

_ Veers had closed his eyes in annoyance. “Fine. Take point with Ellery---you two are the best rifle shots we have at the moment.” _

_ “Thank you.” _

_ “And you will wear this.” _ _   
  
_

_ Veers was handing him his own cuirass. _

_ “Veers, it’s too big.” _ _   
  
_

_ “Not asking, Captain.” _

_ The grey eyes were utterly serious. _

_ “Is that an order, sir?” _

_ “It is. _

And something in the steel of that tone had Piett obeying more than the rank his friend had pulled.

He glanced now at Ellery as the two of them peered into the gloom, the lights on their rifles the only thing they had to see by. The ground had been sloping upward for some time now, and Piett was beginning to wonder where they should stop.

The men had been quiet--speaking only when they had to. It was not because they were seeking to be stealthy, though that was present as well. They were just that depleted that even speaking more than necessary was virtually impossible. 

And suddenly out of the gloom, Vader had appeared, nearly giving the Captain heart failure.

Again.

“We will fortify here.”

And he was gone once more. 

Ellery gazed at him tiredly.

“I can let the General know, sir.”   
  


Piett nodded and turned to muster the rest of the men. He staggered and went to one knee, but pushed himself up with the butt of the blaster rifle.

_ Damn Skywalker. Damn Jedi. Damn this kriff awful war and the obsession of a Sith Lord to waste his men as though he was throwing handfuls of sand in the wind.  _

But even if his commanding officer no longer cared for Death Squadron, Piett did. It was what kept him going at this point. That, and an army General who was loyal to the death. 

So he went through the motions, automatically giving orders and helping to set up a fortified position, knowing distantly that Veers was doing something similar with his remaining AT-STs.

Dawn was breaking when Piett felt big hands taking the blaster rifle from him and he lifted eyes that felt ridiculously heavy to Sergeant Ellery’s bearded face.

“I’ve got the watch, sir.”

“I….haven’t given …..that order, Sergeant.”

Ellery had a firm grasp on his upper arm and was guiding him to the stack of weapons crates next to which a few blankets had been laid on the thankfully grassy surface. 

“I’d appreciate it if you would give it, Captain. And lie down for a bit.”

“Did…..Veers put you up to this?” he asked, slurring and feeling quite drunk with exhaustion.

“No, sir.”

Piett was swaying and knew he looked a bit ridiculous as he peered up at the big man.

“Sergeant….”

“Sir, we both know they’ll be coming for us. We need you, sir, and in this state, you won’t be much good.”   
  


Bold words.

But he was right.

He nodded and Ellery helped ease him to the blankets as Piett stretched out on the unforgiving, cold ground. Not that he cared in the moment. He felt Ellery throw another blanket over him and oblivion took him.

  
  


****

Ellery leaned the Captain’s blaster rifle against the crates and swiftly undid the cuirass. Piett didn’t move, his slight body drained utterly. The Sergeant left it next to his rifle, along with his cap, then rose and kept his watch, both for Rebels and on the Captain. 

He had given up wondering if they would die here, and accepted that they would about two days ago. Lord Vader would never surrender, even to spare his men. Ellery was aware that a call for assistance had gone out---Veers himself had sent it---but they were on day five and had heard nothing. 

That could not bode well for so many reasons. 

But.

Ellery was a man who did his duty above all else. If the Captain and the General were still with them, they might have a chance. He would do his utmost to make sure that both officers stayed safe so that their men had a shot at living. 

The Rebels came for them three hours later. He heard the initial plasma bombing from their superior gun power just before he spotted them through his macrobinoculars.

“Look ready!” he bawled down the line, and swiftly moved to kneel by the Captain who was already propped groggily on one elbow.

“Sir. They’re coming.”

“I gathered,” Piett responded, the shadows under his eyes so dark one might assume he’d been in a fist fight. 

Ellery helped him put on the cuirass without further speech, and then handed him his rifle and cap.

Piett nodded, checking the blaster on his hip and tugging at his utterly filthy jacket.

Ellery smiled. He knew his Captain’s habits well by now.

“All right Sergeant, we hold this side. Should Veers need assistance, you will take over here and marshall Grek Team to help you. I will take what’s left of Zerek to provide aid. And we hope Lord Vader can handle the other side with the rest.”

Ellery saluted. “Yes, sir.”

Piett turned to take his position and Ellery found he couldn’t leave it at that.

“Sir…..”

The Captain turned.

He paused. There wasn’t nearly enough time to say what  _ should _ be said, but…..

“Good hunting, Captain.”

Piett smiled at him. “And you, Ellery.”

And then the attack was on them in earnest. 

It was a haze of mud and spraying dirt, burnt plasteel and fragments of machines and men. It was shouted orders and the hot zap of lasers and blasters. It was the smell of blood and oil and plasma fumes. Screams and yells and whistling bombs.

Somewhere in there Ellery glimpsed a blue blade and knew that Skywalker had breached their final line. 

Of course it was him.

Ellery fired at him, but he leapt over it easily to clash his blade against that of the Dark Lord who had known unerringly that he was coming. 

But there was something strange in their conflict. It was as though…...it was as though Lord Vader did not wish to cause actual harm to the young Jedi. 

Skywalker swung wide and inefficiently while the Sith fought with smooth and practiced strokes. Ellery knew he could have taken the Commander out several times.

But then he didn’t have time to focus on their battle as more heavy fire came their way. They were going to be trapped soon.

A whistle directly above had Piett roaring at them. “Take cover!”

And even the two Force combatants had to part as a plasma bomb landed directly in their midst.

Ellery was flung back, and when he could make sense of his world again, the young Jedi was gone and Vader was using the Force to fling back advancing Rebel troops. 

Ellery realized that Piett was in his face.

“...ergeant. I need to give Veers support, can you hear me?”

“Yes, sir,” he managed, staggering to his feet.

Piett was off down the slope because always he would defend the General.

And then, glory.

Two familiar shapes screamed over their position and fired devastatingly into the Rebels.

TIEs. He didn’t know where they were from or what that meant in terms of their back up, but it gave them slight breathing room. He assembled what was left of his men and went to find their officers.

Years later, Ellery would find out, sitting in a lounge on the Lady, that the Emperor had seized a chance to dispose of Vader in order to catch his son himself.

A lone Gozanti cruiser on patrol had received Veers’ call before it was blocked from the rest of the fleet by one of Palpatine’s agents, and it came to their rescue. 

Ellery found Piett ordering the remaining men to fall back to Lord Vader’s position. Two smoking AT-ST ruins were nearby and the Captain himself was kneeling beside a prone figure…..

No.

“Ellery!” he called, relieved, and even in those circumstances, the Sergeant wondered just what was keeping the Captain upright.

“Help me with the General! He was hurt in that last blast and thrown from the AT-ST….”

“There is no time, Captain, we must go now,” came a deep voice behind Ellery, and Lord Vader strode up to them. Ellery glanced back down the slope to the re-assembling Rebels.

Piett shot a glance over his shoulder at the same sight, and then swung his gaze back to their Sith commander.

“Sir, we need to get the General….”

“We must go  _ now _ , Captain or we will not make it.”

Ellery felt the chill warning in those deep tones and Piett somehow pushed himself to his feet, drawing his blaster from his hip as he did so.

_ What was he doing….? _ _   
  
_

“Then, my Lord, it has been an honor. But I will not leave General Veers.”

Ellery and the two men still flanking him were frozen in horror. No one defied Lord Vader and lived.

But that hazel gaze was fiercely determined, and Ellery realized that the drawn blaster was not for Lord Vader as Piett half turned to assess the threat coming their way.

He intended to die defending his friend. Wavering and at the end of his own strength, the Captain was resolute.

_ Stars _ , but Ellery admired this man. 

Lord Vader made a strange sound in his vocoder.  _ A sigh? _

“Sergeant,” he said, and Ellery straightened.  _ Don’t ask me to shoot my Captain. I can’t. I won’t. _

“You and one of your men will take General Veers. Go now.”

Ellery’s relief was so profound it gave him new energy and he moved forward eagerly to obey.

Piett took a beat as the Sergeant and his men lifted their wounded Commander.

The Captain holstered his blaster with dignity and straightened his spine.

“Thank you, my Lord.”

And then he quietly crumpled.

Ellery paused, but Lord Vader motioned him on.

“Fall back now, Sergeant. I will see to the Captain.”

He obeyed and moved swiftly back up the hill with his burden before he threw a glance over his shoulder.

Lord Vader, scourge of the galaxy, terror to Rebels and Imperials alike, the Emperor’s fist, was carrying his unconscious Captain to safety.

Ellery said nothing as his Lordship caught up to them with his long strides, and they made it to the Gozanti now hovering before them. He said nothing as he and the trooper laid Veers down on the deck. He said nothing as Vader carefully did the same for Piett, laying the Captain next to his friend before moving for the cockpit and growling the order to take off.

But he  _ thought _ a great deal. 

Vader had been willing to pour out the blood of his men like water these last days. Had been willing to spend all of them in order to get Skywalker.

_ Cold and calculating machine indeed. _

And yet.

He turned around and not only spared the life of a defiant Captain, but personally carried him to safety.

Ellery watched as the General and the Captain were covered in shock blankets and tended to.

_ Was there a man under that suit as well?  _

It was a mystery he would never solve. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Forging Ahead Chapter 73
> 
> *Forging Ahead Chapters 91 and 92


	100. Vader's Admiral

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Piett and Anakin undertake a low profile mission to create an alliance with a splinter Imperial group. Naturally things go south, but this time, it really isn't Anakin's fault!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So you guys. This is the 100th one shot! I can't believe it. I thought I should do something special for this event. I pondered many options--Piett and Veers are so very much the foundation of my AU but I have done a great deal with them recently.   
> I love doing Piett and Leia stories, but again, have done that recently.  
> I thought about this a lot and then it occurred---in my AU the reason we're all here doing the things is due to Anakin deciding to save his son in ESB. And who did he bring into that plot first?   
> So, buckle up. This one shot had a mind of its own and it's LONG. xD   
> But I wasn't going to deny Piett a chance to sail, Anakin a chance to be awesome, and both of them a chance to bicker and snark their way through an adventure that reminds us why we're all here in the first place.  
> And thank YOU readers for joining me here. It's been a great delight.

They had only just received their drinks (so Piett felt that this was wildly unfair) when the Dathomirian across the room met his eyes and Piett had a horrible feeling that they had been recognized.

No doubt Lord Vader sensed his spike of adrenaline, because he turned from conversing with their Imperial contact to see what had captured Piett’s attention. 

They were here on this backwater and keeping a very low profile to meet the Imperial liaison from a small splinter group that wished to make peace with the New Republic. As this faction of Imperials justly feared reprisals, their negotiations were being kept very discreet. 

Lord Vader had hidden his lightsaber in his simple brown jacket, and while Piett was in uniform (they needed to make this official as well) his heavy overcoat was thrown over it, making him less obvious.

He had merely introduced his Lordship as a liaison from Mon Mothma as they met in a very basic, nondescript bar in this busy fishing town.

The space port (and it could just barely be called that) was located across the massive bay. They had landed there in the Falcon. 

His Lordship had expressed his deep displeasure to use it. Her highness had pointed out that Solo knew these routes better than anyone out here. Her wishes were naturally followed, and so Piett had just completed an exceedingly tedious trip wherein Lord Vader pointed out all the ways he would upgrade the Falcon, and Solo had responded every time with reminding him of the asteroid field and his failure to catch them. So. 

Piett did not  _ scramble _ to get off the ship (Admirals don’t scramble, my Lord) but he was undeniably eager.

He had perked up immensely when they were informed the best and most innocuous way to get to the village across the bay was by motor boat. Solo was happy to wait for them as the younger Skywalker was with them as well, and Piett just hoped the two of them would manage to stay out of trouble.

Of course, seeing as he was with the older Skywalker, he hoped that for himself as well. 

His Lordship was merely putting up with the boat, but Piett stood near the pilot, deeply enjoying the wind in his face and the slight salt tang on his lips. 

Nothing could take him from his Lady, but vessels on the water would always be a close second to those in the stars. He could hear the strange cry of native birds and he loved the ever changing hue of the water. It was a very vibrant green on this planet, and gave the impression of rich life in its glowing depths and shadows.

“Would you like a go, sir?”

He had been startled out of his reverie by the pilot, who was gazing at him expectantly.

“That’s very kind, thank you,” he told the grizzled man.

“All right then sir, you just hold here steady here, and this…”

He broke off when he realized that Piett knew precisely what he was doing. This was an ancient model to be sure, but boats were typically boats, and Piett had immersed himself in many different designs purely because he loved it. Veers knew this about him, but few others did, including his Lordship.

“Do try to get us there without mishap, Piett,” Lord Vader had commented which the Admiral had found rather rich coming from the man who routinely crashed space ships and termed it a ‘rough landing’. 

“Quite so, sir,” he called back and pulled on the throttle slightly to make a point as the old vessel roared its protest at being pushed faster than accustomed. He had the feel of her though, and wouldn’t ask more of her.

He didn’t need to turn around to know that he was getting a very pointed glare, given the way the old man next to him stiffened. Piett allowed a smile to curve his lips.

_ Turnabout’s fair play, my Lord, _ he thought and knew this thought had been heard by the growl behind him. 

The trip was a long one, and he relinquished control after an hour, moving back to join his commander.

“Axxila does not have extensive bodies of water,” commented Lord Vader without looking at him. 

“No, sir,” replied Piett. They were avoiding ‘my Lord’ while planetside. “That is true.”

He knew that his Lordship wanted more, but after the hellish trip here, Piett was not feeling inclined to give it to him voluntarily.

“I do not see why this mode of transport is so pleasing to you, Admiral.”

Piett sighed lightly and turned up the collar of his heavy coat against the wind and spray.

“I love the ocean, sir, you know that. And before the stars called to beings across the galaxy, many of them started with the seas. I find that fascinating.”

“It’s not nearly as fast as a space ship.”

“It’s not all about speed, sir.”

He met his commander’s horrified gaze at this blasphemy.

“I need to give you some instruction on the proper way of things, Piett.”

“Why are you on this mission again, sir?”

“I was requested to be, Admiral.”

Piett shoved his hands deep into his pockets and wondered just who had requested Lord Vader. Likely Mon Mothma given that they were dealing with Imperials. She tended a bit toward overkill in that department, and he rather felt sending the Admiral of the fleet  _ and _ the former Dark Lord was a bit much. 

Still….if it meant peace with one more Imperial faction, it was worth it. And he enjoyed Lord Vader’s company typically. But the man was in a mood and had been since they left in the Falcon. (Likely a large part of the reason for the mood)

The journey across took them four hours, and even Piett was ready to be done as they pulled up to the dock and he accepted a hand out from one of the workers. For one terrible moment, he thought Lord Vader might vault out of the boat, but his commander seemed to recall the incognito nature of their mission and accepted Piett’s extended hand instead.

So here they were, having met their nervously shifting contact outside a busy if rather faded pub. 

“He’s genuine,” Lord Vader had murmured as they made their way inside to the counter. And yes, it was handy to have Jedi senses for that. 

Piett had just been hoping that they could have a decent drink, assure this nervous young liaison that they were willing and able to make an agreement with their faction, and meet his commander tomorrow to seal the deal, then head back to the small hotel they had booked for the night.

He just knew it wasn’t to be.

The Dathomirian gave him one more glance and then ducked out of the pub. Piett shot a quick look at Lord Vader.

“I think we’re about to be made,” he murmured.

His commander didn’t hesitate.

“Lieutenant Commander Patel. The Admiral is worried, rightly, that there looks to be some local trouble brewing. Perhaps we can finish our business at the agreed time tomorrow?”

The man looked at them doubtfully. “I don’t know---I was told to clear these items with you and….”

“I appreciate that,” Piett told him smoothly. “However, trust me when I say I have experience in recognizing this sort of thing. I’m sure none of us wish to draw attention by being involved in a local scuffle. Let’s finish tomorrow.”

Patel nodded jerkily and set down his glass, rising and moving swiftly to the door.

“Now what?” the Admiral asked, taking a sip (he should at least get to taste it, damn it!)

“I think we ask about a back entrance,” his Lordship responded, rising and moving back to the counter, Piett not far behind, shrugging back into his overcoat.

In short order they were directed to one, weaving through the little kitchen the pub boasted which smelled heavily of fish, as they dodged through the personnel and out into the early evening gloom, made more depressing by the fog coming in over the water.

“Apologies, sir,” Piett said, “but he looked right at me and I thought….”

“You were absolutely right, Admiral, don’t apologize for your instincts. They are exceptionally good for someone who is not Force sensitive.”

Well.

All right. He certainly hadn’t expected that compliment.

“Should we head to the hotel, sir?”

They were striding swiftly through the mists and moving through the crowds of beings either heading home or to the various local establishments. Piett was having to move very quickly indeed to keep up with the former Sith’s long strides and silently blessed Veers and his stringent workouts for them.

“I think so, Piett, though we’ll take the back way…...get down!”

A stun blast rang over their heads and ricocheted off the building nearest them. Lord Vader had pulled him down and was raising a hand.

“My Lord, no it’s too public!” Piett hissed, forgetting that they weren’t using titles. “We can’t risk that for the sake of our potential allies. And we’re too close to Hutt space without back up at the moment!”

“Shavit,” his commander swore quietly, and Piett had a fleeting moment to wonder if Darth Vader had ever sworn under the mask before he was being hauled to his feet. “Then it’s time to run, Piett.”

He trusted to his commander’s Force instincts to guide them as they dodged and weaved through the narrow back streets in increasing darkness as night proper came upon them. 

At last his Lordship pulled Piett down a narrow flight of stone steps, and the Admiral realized that they were on the harbor front under one of the larger docks. He could hear the water lapping the shore mere feet away and smell the brine.

They waited breathlessly and then Piett heard pursuing voices. He realized in consternation that they were headed down here.

“My Lord,” he whispered urgently, “we need to move, they….”

“Are coming to us, Admiral. And we are out of sight of any witnesses.”

And understanding washed over Piett. Lord Vader wasn’t _concerned_. Rather he had deliberately steered them here to deal with their pursuers. He was reminded again why he had served his commander so faithfully.  _ This _ was the man who led from the front and laid his traps effectively. 

“Don’t you wish to know why they only set the blasters to stun?” his Lordship asked.

“Yes, sir,” he responded, drawing his blaster.

Beings appeared on either end of the shore underneath the pier. The Dathomirian was leading them.

“Hiding like rats,” he sneered. “How appropriate. I thought I recognized you. It’s been two decades but the bounty is still there. Richer than ever now too.”

It took Piett a beat to realize that they were speaking of  _ him _ .

Clearly Lord Vader was slightly taken aback as well.

“Do you mean to tell me that….you’re here for….”   
  


“Piett. Yeah. The Pantera don’t forget. And you,  _ Admiral _ , caused a great deal of damage back in the day. Still have that scar on your arm?”

Oh yes. 

“You clearly have the wrong kind of company, friend,” the Dathomirian told Lord Vader. “If you walk away now, we’ll let you live.”

His Lordship snorted. “No you won’t.”

The sound of numerous blasters arming echoed around them.

“This one is worth more alive than dead, but it’s still a pretty price tag if I bring in his body. So I’d put that blaster down, Piett.”

His Lordship had angled himself so they were nearly back to back. 

“You can’t have him,” his commander said firmly, bracing himself, and Piett felt a surge of battle joy.

The leader of their enemies sneered. 

“Have it your way then.”

“Oh I will,” drawled his Lordship, and the pirates opened fire.

The Force was protecting him---Piett could almost swear he could feel it as he fired back at his assailants. Even now, Lord Vader wasn’t drawing his lightsaber, but using his powers alone to fling their enemies into the heavy wooden pylons or just….snap their necks. 

Piett couldn’t bring himself to feel sorry about that. 

He fired again and knew he’d made a hit by the awful cry in the darkness. For a while he lost track of time, battling back to back with his commander.

And then it was over.

“We need to get back to the Falcon, my Lord,” he panted. “Should I assume that your son knows what happened?”

“He does,” replied his Lordship. “He was ready to fly in here, but we can still salvage this mission without endangering our skittish Imperials.”

Piett could hear the strong contempt in his voice as they moved back up to the stone streets by the harbor. He himself was more sympathetic, but he did understand why his Lordship felt such disdain. 

“Well then, my Lord, we need a way to get to them quietly and quickly.” Piett was striding ahead now, running his eyes over the shapes moored in the darkness. There.

“Piett…..”

“Hop in, sir,” he said, jumping down into the boat he’d picked, and was surprised by the sharp burn of pain in his side as he landed. Pulled muscle?

“Admiral,” his commander hissed at him, “where is the motor?”

Piett smiled broadly, even though he knew the ex Sith couldn't see it. “There isn’t one sir. It’s a sailboat. I did mention---quickly and  _ quietly _ .”

“Quiet, yes,” his Lordship groused, “nothing quick about it.”

Piett was moving nimbly around, undoing the ropes and hoisting the jib to get them moving. The breeze was still strong, and slowly they began to move as Piett manned the tiller.

“My Lord, once we are clear of the inner harbor I am going to need you on the tiller so I can work with the sails.”

“The tiller steers it, correct?”

Oh dear.

“Yes, my Lord. And as we are heading toward your son, I thought you could be our compass if you will. You can sense where to go.”

“The Force is not your  _ compass _ , Admiral.”

He grinned broadly, just able to make out the dark shape of his commander.

“It is at the moment, my Lord. All right, I’m hoisting the main sail. And then I need to tack. Your job is to steer us toward your son. Do you see how….”

“I understand how this operates, Admiral. You are working with the foremost mechanical mind in the galaxy after all.”

_ Of kriffing course. _

“Yes, my Lord. Just-- sailing is slightly different from mechanical knowledge…..”

And son of a  _ Hutt _ , his side was really hurting. 

“I turn a lever if I want an action to happen for the boat, Admiral. Not all that different.”   
  


Piett bit back the many things he wanted to say in reply and focused on the sails. Once they were well clear of the harbor he turned to his commander.

“Are we headed in the right direction for Commander Skywalker?”

“Yes, Admiral.”

And judging by the tone, his commander did not like feeling as though Piett was giving the orders. Which. He  _ was _ , but still...extreme circumstances right?

“Good. Then I can trim the sails.” 

He seated himself at last, holding the rope for the mainsail and tying down the jib. 

His side throbbed and he reached his free hand to touch it. It came away wet. Well nine hells. He’d been winged and didn’t even realize. 

He explored a bit more, biting down on the inside of his cheek hard at the sharp pain. Not deep or life threatening. He would just have to make do. He tucked his arm more securely to his side on that spot.

“Everything all right, Admiral?” Lord Vader asked from behind him.

“Ship shape, sir,” he called back, and smirked at the long suffering sigh he received.

“Will I be subject to these nautical terms all night?”

“We serve on the Lady, my Lord, surely they aren’t uncommon to you.”

“We don’t have to ‘trim’ the Lady,” his Lordship replied dryly.

“True, sir. But she is capable of pitch, and yaw and…”

“Yes, all right,  _ Piett _ . Force.”

The Admiral smiled.   
  


*****

  
  


Anakin could feel Piett’s wicked satisfaction. The man wasn’t even trying to hide it. A mere few years ago, his Admiral had been a master at clamping down his emotions. 

Now, however……

Now he was pleased to have someone who not only felt that they could be unguarded, but openly banter with him. 

Luke joked and laughed, but he was his son and further, that was  _ Luke _ .

_ Child of the sun. Joyous spirit of his mother. _

Piett was slowly allowing more of himself to come to the surface with Anakin. Veers too really, but the General was of a more reserved disposition naturally. Anakin was realizing that Piett was  _ not _ , and it grieved him that his Admiral had spent so much of his life repressing such a large part of himself. 

This moment right now for instance. Further proof of just how little he really knew about his second in command. He loved the water, but more than that, he loved ships.  _ All _ ships. And he knew how to operate them. Where had he learned?

Anakin reached in the Force but sensed no pursuit. Hopefully, the colleagues of the pirates they had killed wouldn’t know until they had rendezvoused with Luke and Solo. 

He adjusted the tiller lightly, feeling the ship respond and Piett gripped the rope for one of the sails, knowing immediately what to do as he tightened it ever so slightly. 

He watched the straight back of the Admiral, just visible before him and decided that he wished to know more. 

“How did you learn to sail, Piett? And pilot a boat? Are you wanting to tell me now? Or are you still bitter about my disagreement with Solo?”

A small chuckle. “That was not a small disagreement, my Lord. That was you baiting Solo for six hours straight and him winding you up in turn.”

He half turned briefly to glance back at Anakin. “Your son can meditate his way out of enduring that. I cannot.”

Anakin sighed. “All right, I promise not to discuss the collection of Jawa trash Solo calls a ship on the return journey. So. Tell me about you. You’ve displayed yet more hidden talents this evening.”

Piett adjusted his seat carefully, turning so that he was perpendicular to the boat and winding the rope in his hand several times around a piece of metal on the side that seemed made for the job. He didn’t lift his hand from it however. 

“I learned on an undercover job when I was hunting pirates, my Lord.”   
  


“ _ These _ pirates?”   
  


The flash of a smile in the darkness.

“No, sir. Different crowd. I spent six months with them. Learned a great deal about sailing. And the creative transport of spice and stolen goods.”

Which reminded Anakin of why they were in this predicament in the first place. 

“So. You have a bounty on your head.”

“My Lord….” he did something with the rope to adjust the sail slightly. “If you recall, all of our senior officers on the Lady have a bounty on our heads for being traitors. I believe you top that list, my Lord.”   
  


Anakin waved a dismissive hand. “I am not talking about the sad remnants of the Empire. You have a two decades old bounty on your head from a pirate group closely associated with the _Hutts_!”

“Mmm. I had wondered if that had lapsed. Apparently not.”

His Admiral sounded perfectly calm and Anakin wondered not for the first time, just how rough things had been in the Outer Rim after he left. 

They were silent for a moment, merely the sounds of the water hitting the sides of the boat and the breeze in the sail keeping them company. 

“I would like it noted, Piett, that this mission went to the nine hells because of you, not me.”

He could feel the Admiral’s burning indignation even if he couldn’t see his face very well.

“My Lord, the odds of running into a Pantera pirate that recognized me after all these years…!!” He huffed and made an odd movement.

“Admiral?”   
  


“Sorry, my Lord, banged my side slightly when we jumped in. I was going to say, I don’t  _ seek out  _ trouble!”

Anakin ingested this. “And you’re saying I do, Piett?”   
  


“No….ah, merely that when trouble comes, you are more keen to... _ embrace _ it.”

Anakin smiled. “That may be, Piett. Don’t think for a moment however, that I didn’t feel your satisfaction back there when we were fighting back to back.”   
  


“Of course, my Lord, we defeated our attackers.”

Anakin shook his head. “This was more, Admiral. It’s why I wanted you to lead Death Squadron. You’re a fighter. You don’t give up either. And in those moments---you feel joy.”   
  


Piett was silent, head turned out to the water.

“I suppose there is some truth to that, my Lord. I fought for everything in my life. I found the most joy in seeing justice done…”

“Why did they place such a bounty on your head, Admiral?” Anakin asked abruptly, sensing that Piett was getting lost in memories that were causing him pain. 

His second in command turned his head back to him.

“Oh. Well. Pantera was causing devastation at the time in the Salin Corridor. I was...instrumental in brokering a deal with Mandalore to police that. Cut their business in half.”

_ Half _ . Yes, Anakin could see why that would upset them. 

“How did they find out you were part of that?”

Another slight hesitation, and Anakin knew.

“You weren’t just part of it. It was your idea wasn’t it?”

“Yes, my Lord.”   
  


“Piett, that was some remarkable work. The Empire holonews carried that. But your name wasn’t credited.”   
  


He may not see the Admiral clearly, but he knew Piett was flushing.

“Better that way, sir. I needed to continue doing my job. Wouldn’t help at all to have my name and face flashed all over the galaxy. It was hard enough as you see.”   
  


“Well. Excellent job, Admiral,” Anakin said, giving him a clap on the back and Piett  _ flinched _ . 

_ Father _ .

Anakin frowned at Piett, even though he couldn’t see it and turned his attention to his son.

_ Luke. Are you all right? _

_ I am, but there’s word that the local pirate group is all stirred up. That would be you, right? _ _   
  
_

_ Yes. How stirred up? _ _   
  
_

_ They’re searching--particularly looking for the Admiral…. _

_ Yes, there’s a story there. We’re about four hours from you now. _

_ It will be dawn in two.  _

_ Then we might need you on standby if they have more than basic motorboats. _

_ Still trying to salvage the mission? _ _   
  
_

_ I think we can, Luke. I’ll keep you updated. _

He cut the connection and turned to the Admiral. 

“Where, Piett?”

“My Lord?”

“You  _ flinched _ , just then. Where are you hurt.?”

The man sighed and Anakin realized he could see him a little more clearly. That’s right. This planet had 18 hour days.

“I was just winged, my Lord. Nothing serious.”

_ Nothing… _ .

“I will be the judge of that. You have a terrible track record for ‘serious’ wounds.”

He let go of the tiller and Piett let out a strangled cry.

“My Lord! You can’t just….” He stood quickly, hissing as he did so and confirming Anakin’s concerns. Nonetheless he leapt to the ropes and the sails began flapping madly as the boat slowed to a stop.

“Thank the Force we weren’t downwind or we would have capsized!” the Admiral exclaimed, standing midships, hands on his hips. The very picture of outraged naval experience, and Anakin couldn’t stop the grin at the slight figure before him. 

Wounded, no doubt shortly to be pursued by angry pirates, but still capable of telling off Darth Vader for his lack of sailing knowledge. 

“Yes, yes, Piett, I’m a novice. Sit and let me see.”

“My Lord, there are more pressing concerns, such as the pirates behind us and the Imperials waiting for us. It’s why I didn’t….I didn’t…..”

He swayed and not because of the gentle rocking of the boat. 

Anakin reached and snagged him in time with the Force, drawing him back to the bench by the tiller.

Piett was sputtering. 

“Sir! My Lord!” 

“I know you hate it, Piett, that’s too bad.” Anakin deposited him carefully and knelt in front of him. “Undo your overcoat. You would have fallen, possibly overboard, if I hadn’t stopped you.”

“I wouldn’t…” Piett paused, fumbling with the buttons and Anakin batted his hands away lightly. 

“You would have. It’s bad enough that you’re feeling faint--no, don’t you dare contradict me  _ Admiral _ \---and your hands are shaking.  _ Force _ , Piett, you _tell_ me when you get shot!”

“My Lord….”

Anakin was in charge now. He may not know anything about boats except that they went in water, but he knew about dealing with stubborn friends. 

“No. You are going to shut up now--and I mean that in the best possible way-- and I am going to be your kriffing commanding officer who is assessing the situation.”

And at last, whether it was due to the tone or to blood loss, Piett was silent, leaning back in the stern to watch Anakin as he undid the Admiral’s belt and unlatched the duty jacket to take a look at his side. 

“Well. Not life threatening at the moment. Unless it gets infected which is  _ highly likely _ , given how long it’s been.”   
  


“I told you,” Piett said tiredly “and if we can jab me with antibiotics on the Falcon, it will be  _ fine _ .”

“I’m going to try and at least seal the wound--make sure you can’t reopen it----as you have clearly done a few times now, Piett, judging by the blood loss.”

“Very well. And then we need to get moving again...we’ve no doubt drifted off course by a large margin now.”

Anakin rolled his eyes. “We can get back on course. Do you know what we cannot do at the moment? Put more blood in your body. So. Don’t try to guilt me about sailing.”

Piett snorted and winced again while Anakin concentrated in the Force. He was not skilled here, but he could do basic things and sealing the wound was important.

“My Lord, if we crash or capsize, we will be in far more dire straits and….”

“Firmus.”   
  


Piett stared.

“Thought that would shut you up.” Anakin grinned, and closed the Admiral’s jacket once more and fastened his belt. “ _ You _ are more important. I realize I was rubbish with prioritizing that for a long time. But as we are friends now….we  _ are _ friends now, correct?”

Piett gave him a small smile with rather pale lips. “Yes, my Lord. We are.”

“All right then, given that we are friends as well as officers who serve together, it is my job as your commander to make sure I am looking out for you. Force knows I have years of not doing so to make up for.”   
  


“I’m not…..holding onto that, my Lord. Thank you.” 

There was a beat.

“Please don’t let go of the tiller again unless I direct you to though,” Piett told him and Anakin laughed. 

“Fine.” He offered the Admiral his hand and Piett moved to take it and get up. What he actually managed was to stumble into his commander as his knees refused to hold him, and Anakin eased him back down.

“I’m so very sorry, my Lord, if you could give me a moment..”

But the light was getting stronger, meaning they didn’t have a moment. That, and Piett looked too grey.

“All right, Admiral, I need a crash course in sailing.”   
  


Piett winced. “Please don’t use such language, my Lord.”

“True though. You’re not able to, Piett. So.”

He settled next to the shorter man and drew him over to rest against Anakin. He took the tiller in the other hand. 

“You have command, Admiral. Don’t get used to that when I’m around.”

Piett managed a laugh, and Anakin wasn’t concerned ( _ he wasn’t)  _ as the Admiral leaned heavily against him. 

“Believe me, sir, I would never take the liberty. But while I appreciate you holding me up, I’ll need to take the tiller and you need to be forward to man the sails.”

Anakin smirked heavily at him. 

“Piett.” He waved a hand and the rope for the— jab? jip?— uncoiled itself as he gave a Force tug. “I can do it from here.”

The boat lurched sharply and Piett clutched the side and strove for a steady tone. 

“My Lord. _Ease_ into that. And, I think for our purposes I’m going to have you sail with just the sails. Don’t worry about the tiller.”   
  


Anakin raised his eyebrow. “Don’t? Were you or were not giving me all sorts of Corellian hells for letting go of it minutes ago?”

Piett huffed again. “Your standard for receiving hell is remarkably low, my Lord. Since you are insisting on using your….abilities, I think I can direct you best in just using the sails to guide us.”

“You don’t sound pleased that I can use the Force for this Piett.”

His Admiral muttered something too low for him to hear and he gently nudged him with his elbow.

“I didn’t quite catch that, Admiral?”

Piett shifted slightly against him. “I  _ said _ , my Lord, that using the Force isn’t actually sailing.”

Anakin scoffed. “Watch me. So. Which one do I  _ ease into _ first?” 

“You know, my Lord,” Piett sighed, and Anakin could now feel the other man working to suppress the pain. “I get the distinct impression you aren’t taking this very seriously.”

Anakin smiled. “Well, there’s a limit to how fast I can go here, so….”

And he was positive he heard Piett breathe  _ ‘Force damn it’ _ down at his clasped hands before he schooled his features. And unaccountably, Anakin was swept with fondness for his Admiral as it occurred that this was likely far from the first time he had thought or murmured this in regard to Anakin’s love for speed.

“I’ll do my best, Piett, I promise. We need to get you to the Falcon, patch you up, and then go assure our Imperials that we can handle things for them if they decide to join the New Republic.”

“Right.” Piett took a deep breath and sat as straight as he was able. “First ease back on the jib, that’s the rope in your left hand, my Lord. Well…..that you’re controlling on the left at least.  _ Stars, _ this is strange.”

But Anakin was determined now to listen well and get them to Luke and Solo. Piett may think he was doing well at hiding the effects of the wound, but he was starting to have trouble focusing and Anakin wanted to get him treated before it really could become serious. 

“All right, how’s that, Admiral?”

“Good, sir. I’m also hoping you still know which direction we’re heading…..”

Luke’s presence was like a beacon.

“I am. You just stay with me….”

But something spiked in the Force and Anakin realized that their fortune had run out. As the small sun came up over the horizon, so too did several small fighter ships, humming toward them with deadly intent.

“Admiral!” he shouted and Piett was with him, the adrenaline no doubt helping him.

“Get me the main sail!” he called, and Anakin sent him the rope with the Force as he rose and Piett moved to take his position at the tiller.

The fighters opened up, laser fire raking the water near them as Piett skillfully turned the boat sharply.

“So much for them not wanting to kill you for this bounty!” Anakin called, balancing himself with a hand on the mast.

He felt his son’s presence coming closer. Good. He knew what was happening. The fighters banked and came around.

“Starboard!” Anakin shouted at the Admiral who responded beautifully, the shots raising steam from the emerald green water where they had been seconds before. 

Anakin knew that they would not be able keep this up forever. So as the fighters came around again, he immersed himself deeply in the Force and reached….

His arm trembled in the strain but quite suddenly, one of the fighters was sent spinning off wildly to crash in an impressive white spray.

“Very good, my Lord!” Piett called and Anakin could feel his strain as well.

_ Come on Luke… _ .

The remaining fighters changed tactics, splitting off to approach, one on each side and Anakin raised both hands.

“Which side should I veer to, my Lord?” Piett shouted as they closed in. 

Anakin opened his mouth just as a shadow swept over them and suddenly the one on the right disintegrated in a bright explosion.

He flung his power at the one approaching on the left just as it fired and ripped off the front of their boat.

He and Piett were flung to the bottom of the boat, but he knew it would be alright now.

“Are you hurt, Admiral?” he asked, reaching for Piett’s arm. “Well. More than you were?”   
  


“No, my Lord,” Piett panted, “just bruises. But it didn’t do my side any favors. Also, we’ll be sunk in about two minutes so…”

Anakin scoffed and helped him to his feet. “I realize that you’re wounded and thus not as observant Piett.”

The Falcon was hovering over them with impressive control (not that he would ever tell Solo that) and his son was balanced on the lowered landing ramp to give them a hand.

Piett took it firmly and Luke hauled him up. Anakin gathered the Force and leapt.

They all made their way to the main hold as Solo swept them back to the mainland. 

“So,” his son asked, surveying them, hands on his hips. “You have a meeting with some Imperials in about four hours. Still think we can salvage this?”

“I do,” Anakin said firmly, because no kriffing space pirates were going to throw a wrench in the works. He glanced at his pale Admiral, holding his side carefully. “But  _ you’re _ the one meeting the Imperials with me. Piett is staying here.”

“My Lord, they are expecting…”

He pinned the man with a glare. “I am the liaison from Mon Mothma. Further, I am quite capable for this, as is Luke. Now come. We have some time before we need to depart.”

Piett held his gaze firmly. “My Lord. I am certain that’s true. But I believe we have the best chance at success if I accompany you.”

Anakin pointedly ignored his son’s amusement in the Force.

“ _ You _ are shot.”

“Patch me up.”

Anakin narrowed his eyes and Piett gave him his very best bland look. 

_ Oh shavit.  _

“Fine. On the condition that when we return, you are lying down on the excuse for a medbunk that Solo has on his dumpster find and you will stay there. And you may be a stubborn bastard Piett, but I am a Sith….”

“Ex,” murmured Luke.

“Yes, thank you  _ Son _ , an Ex-Sith and your commanding officer, so you will obey those orders.”

“As you say, my Lord.”

There was definitely a tone.

  
  


******

Luke patted Han’s shoulder and moved out of the cockpit to check on his Father and the Admiral.

Leia had been peppering him through the Force on the details, and he had been reassuring her several times over that they were all fine and that her Admiral  _ would _ be fine, particularly after she took charge of him. 

He had watched in wonder and amusement as his Father had curtly but carefully treated Piett’s blaster wound, the two of them sparring back and forth the whole time. Piett was polite and clipped, and his Father had shaken his finger three times in the Admiral’s face. 

They had returned from their excursion with success---this Imperial faction had agreed to a treaty. They weren't ready to fully join, but they were happy to have a formal alliance while they sorted things out.

His Father had been as good as his word, and the Admiral had received orders to occupy one of the bunks in the Falcon’s main hold immediately. 

Luke, and no doubt, his Father, could feel Piett’s relief to be lying down, though he kept a very stoic facade.

Which stood him in good stead when his Father growled something about his temperature. Deciding that Anakin could put his worry to good use, other than bickering with his Admiral, Luke handed him the medkit and Anakin proceeded to give Piett another dose of antibiotics and painkillers, before Luke set up a drip.

“Excessive surely, Commander,” Piett had commented mildly.

“You’re dehydrated, sir,” Luke told him. “This will help speed your recovery.”

Piett had sighed, but acquiesced. 

Now, Luke leaned in the entryway and watched with a small smile.

It was these moments that gave him hope for his Father as he tried to climb and claw his way back to the light.

The Admiral was asleep, peacefully, Luke was glad to see. They’d beaten back the fever then. His Father had hunted out the blanket stash and Piett was securely tucked in. 

Anakin himself, rather than sitting at the more comfortable booths around the dejarik table, was sitting on a storage crate and leaning against the wall by Piett’s bunk. Luke watched as he read something on the datapad, checked the readings on the little screen by Piett’s head, nodded to himself, and patted the Admiral’s shoulder before returning to his datapad.

He did this again twice in the time Luke watched. 

Piett had been the first one his Father had brought in on his plot to overthrow the Emperor. From what he understood, the Admiral had agreed to do so while Luke himself was still in bacta on the Lady after the awful encounter at Bespin. A man who had compassion on  _ Darth Vader _ , who wanted to help him change himself and the galaxy. His Father had laid out the situation, and Piett, who had been through hell himself at his Father’s hands, had agreed to help. Time and again, Piett had fulfilled that trust. 

So Luke understood his Father. Safe on the Falcon, and heading to the Lady, his Father would keep watch over his Admiral. It was the least he could do for the man he trusted the most.


	101. Father and Son

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anakin needs a day with some extra help for his lungs. Luke keeps him company.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a prompt for jedi_knights_at_bel_canto_bights who requested a moment of quiet with Luke and Anakin. I appreciated this as they deserve that indeed. :)   
> After all, I can beat the angst muse back once in a while and this was a good one to have some fluff! 
> 
> So thank you for the prompt jedi!! xx

“You didn’t have….to come,” Anakin managed, and how he hated being attached to a breathing mask again.

His son leaned in the doorway and folded his arms. 

“I know that.”

“Henley didn’t need….to call you. Just….need to get my lungs….under control.”   
  


Once in awhile this happened. Some part of his battered, cobbled together body would struggle and he would need to spend time in bacta, or get muscle therapy, or help his lungs, which was what he was doing at the moment. The replacements were good, but the rest of his body put a strain on them, requiring him to be on oxygen occasionally.

“Henley didn’t comm me.”

Anakin paused.  _ Ah _ .

“Piett, then.”

Luke smiled. “Don’t sound put out. I know you’re not. Your Admiral merely met me in the hangar bay to tell me that you were here.”

“He could have commed you.”

“Yes,” Luke said coming further into Anakin’s private medical suite. “But he had a dual purpose in meeting me. He wished to assess for himself that I was physically intact after that skirmish before he informed me that you were, and I quote “on his way to being an asthmatic vornskr”.”

His son was smiling far too much about that.

“Did he…..now?” Trust Piett to get creative with his descriptions. It occurred to Anakin to wonder what sort of comparisons his Admiral had drawn in his mind for Darth Vader. 

“Yes, and as he is on the bridge, he wondered if I had the time to come see you. Which I always do, of course.”

_ His son was always too generous with him.  _

Luke considered the chair by his bed, and then surprised him by clambering up beside him. 

“That ok? Not jostling anything crucial?”

_ Was it….?  _ His son was warm by his side and wondering if it was  _ okay. _

“It is….perfectly fine…..Luke. Only the lungs needing….some extra help…..today.”

“Great then. Missed you out there. Don’t get me wrong---Rogue Squadron can handle anything….”

Anakin scoffed slightly and didn’t have to look at his son to know that Luke was grinning.

“....but there’s nothing quite like flying in tandem with you.”

The warmth of the Force at those words wrapped around them both. Anakin wondered if Luke could truly comprehend just how critical he had been in his Father’s healing process. Just by being himself. 

“Tell me how it...went.”

Luke yawned immensely before turning those clear blue eyes up to him. “I’m happy to say we didn’t lose anyone. Two of our X-Wings are a lost cause, but all of our guys came back. Three in sickbay, but I’m assured they will recover well.”

Anakin was glad. Of course, Piett would have let him know if things had been in any way serious. Still, having his son whole and secure at his side was doing wonders for him and his lungs even felt more easy.

How much of that was a placebo effect he wasn’t sure and didn’t care. 

“Very good. Who was bold enough….to challenge us?”

“More of an accident I think. We weren’t intending to pause in this system, but Alethea reported an issue with her engines. We dropped out of hyperspace and there they were. I should tell you, Hobbie was delighted to try flying a TIE today.”   
  


Some part of Anakin would always find this a bit strange---former Rebel pilots in his TIE fighters, and vice versa he supposed. 

“Who let  _ Klivian _ near one of our TIEs?”

“Your TIE group commander.”

Well. He would need to speak to the woman then. 

“You can’t give her a hard time, Father. It was jointly approved with Wedge.”

“What former Rebel pilots….think about TIE fighter squadrons is not...relevant.”

Luke snorted in good humor, knowing that Anakin just wanted to grouse about something.

“Sure. That’s why I spend so much time with you, working on your Advanced.”   
  


Anakin gently shoved his son's blonde head. “ _ You _ are different, young one. You are…. my son and a Skywalker.”

He felt Luke’s amusement as well as his weariness.

“You should go and….rest, my son.”

“Do you want me to leave?”

Well.

“No.”

“Good then. Not sure if I can move at the moment anyway. How much longer does Henley have you here?”

“Four hours. It is getting better…..just giving the medication time to do its job.”   
  


“The Admiral implied that you cheated again in your match last night.”   
  


Anakin was amused at Piett’s indignation. He was getting much better at spotting Anakin’s subterfuge. Half the fun was cheating until he noticed. 

“Did he say so?”

“His exact words were that ‘he found your creative interpretation of the rules exasperating’. 

Luke yawned again.

“And yet, he continues to agree to matches….with me. If the Admiral was so keen to have a clean game…..he could ask someone….else. The truth is….he likes a challenge and in this case….he desires to see if he can spot….my dishonesty….”

He stopped abruptly. Luke’s head had landed on his shoulder. Very cautiously he looked down. 

His son was boneless against him, exhaustion having won at last.

Anakin waited a moment, barely breathing. Then he recalled why he was here as his lungs twinged, and he breathed again. 

But Luke’s sleep was that of the supremely exhausted. 

Very cautiously, he moved his arm to get it around his son and draw him down to a more comfortable position on his chest. Luke stirred but leaned into him further at the action.

Anakin marvelled.

Four years ago this boy had screamed his anguish at him in learning that Darth Vader was Anakin Skywalker. Had jumped from a platform to almost certain death rather than take his Father’s hand. 

His trust in this moment was so supreme, he had fallen asleep on Anakin--content and….happy. 

_ Could he have had this decades ago? Could he have held a tiny warm bundle of blue eyes and soft hair had he made different decisions? _

He knew the answers and they skewered his heart. 

Anakin lifted his hand and stroked the fine blonde strands gently. 

He could have held his newborn son like this--giving Padme’ a well deserved break. 

_ Padme’ _ . 

His other side was empty. He doubted he would ever have a brunette head here. That would never fail to make his soul bleed. 

No. He really ought not dwell on that. His son was here and demonstrating complete trust in his vulnerable sleep. That his daughter would never do so was one of many consequences he bore for what he had done. 

Luke genuinely loved him. Wanted to be with him. There were days that Anakin felt like a fraud. He alone knew just how dark his past was. Even Piett and Veers had no idea just how evil he had been. And he knew he could not speak of those things to his son. Could not bear to have those trusting blue eyes cloud with disgust and horror. He had seen that look on Bespin and despaired.

He did not think he could face that again. 

So then. For now, he would rest easy. He would hold at bay the demons of his past, and his doubts for the future. He would breathe deeply and feel his son’s head rise and fall on his chest. He would hold those wirey shoulders close to himself, and drink in the warmth of the slight form beside him, because this was a gift that he had never allowed himself to dream of.

Anakin closed his eyes and held his son. 


	102. Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We all get them. Sometimes we get them over and over. A peek into three officers dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one tackled me from nowhere while I was driving home last night and I had to stay up to get it from my brain to paper.

He was burning. He was always burning. The fire devoured him like a starving Krayt dragon and the  _ pain… _ .

He inhaled air that burned his lungs from the inside out: scorching, awful pain and every breath was agony, yet he must breathe and the awful circle continued with no reprieve.

He didn’t even feel the pain of missing limbs. It was the helplessness. The inability to rise from the molten shores as he lay there smelling his own skin roast, screaming in his rage and agony both.

_ “I hate you!” _

And the man would turn and leave him to his horrific fate. 

But sometimes…..

...sometimes _she_ was with him, burning near him and he  _ couldn’t get to her. _

He couldn’t help her. Couldn’t help himself.

He was forced to lie there, and hear her screams and see her  _ burn _ .

Her and their child.

He wanted to weep, but the heated air had taken his tears. His burned face could not have handled the salt even if he had tears to spare.

It was almost worse when her screams stopped. He was too late.

No one came. Why did no one  _ come _ ?

He wanted to die.

Fire all around him, the river of magma just inches from him, why  _ Force _ , couldn’t he die?

Anakin Skywalker woke and immediately went to the fresher for a cold shower. 

He hated fire.

  
  


****

  
He lay helpless in the vast expanse of white, feeling the heat draining from his body as though it was being soaked from him by a sponge. 

In one sense, he supposed, this was precisely what was happening. And he was trapped under the debris of his destroyed walker with only his dead troops for company.

Maybe they would find his body in the spring. Oh wait, he recalled now. Hoth never had spring. It was a planet of perpetual winter. 

The snow whirled about him, each flake mocking his lack of mobility, before it danced away to be replaced by one of its brothers and sisters.

Would he feel sleepy first? Then really warm?

He remembered reading about hypothermia and the stages one could find oneself in. Which was he, he wondered? Was he already in a state of delirium?

He was a  _ fighter _ , damn it! He couldn’t go like this---just lying here, staring at the grey eternity of frozen sky!

But he couldn’t move. Perhaps he had been paralyzed.

What a horrific thought. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to live like that. He was ashamed immediately. How many men had he known who had lived with that? Was he so weak, that he couldn’t face it?

Where were the search and rescue ships? Did they know he was here?

He realized that it was quite likely they thought him dead. Well. Soon he would be at this rate.

Alone on a Force forsaken tundra, with only the increasing cold for company. He wasn’t shivering now, and knew that was bad. 

The eyes of his dead pilot wouldn’t look away. The body was slowly being covered in snow.

Just like his. 

But he wasn’t dead! He wanted to yell, and he couldn’t.

And the snow came down.

Max Veers woke and couldn’t get warm.

He hated the cold. 

  
  


*****

He didn’t know if he was bound, or if arms were holding him back. The effect was the same. 

He couldn’t reach them.

_ Please not again _ , he thought,  _ please don’t take them again--I can’t bear it. _

Please let it be me instead. He would cheerfully take their place.

It was never allowed. 

First Rilla went down, her beautiful eyes so surprised, and he strained to get to her, to stop the blood welling out of her chest, but he could not break the force holding him back.

Help her! He wanted to call out, but he couldn’t. He watched the light leave her eyes and he wept.

He did not know where he was when his surroundings changed, but it wasn’t the deck of the Lady. He knew this because he could see her, his beautiful Lady, stretched before him in the viewport. She was always next, he knew the pattern now and knew what was about to happen.

He tried to stop it anyway. He fought and begged, but he couldn’t change it.

She exploded outward in a brilliant flash of white light and sparkling debris.

His clever, wonderful Lady and the 300,000 lives upon her. Gone.

So stunning a loss he had no tears. Some things went too deep.

The next…..the next was Max. Sometimes, he tried to close his eyes as though that would keep it from happening. 

It never did.

The shot was fired, and the General didn’t have time for goodbye. Veers lay at his feet, grey eyes defiant in death, and his soul bled.

And the final one. 

He was allowed to move for the final one. Always he was allowed to move, but only to hold her in his arms so that he could feel the life leave that small body. She wouldn’t look at him and it broke his heart. 

No one ever helped. No one came.

And he was left alone.

Always.

Firmus Piett woke to grief so profound, he thought surely his chest was crushed. 

He hated being alone.

  
  


******

Anakin sensed his presence, and the Lady opened the doors to admit his son.

Luke was carrying a large bottle of something as he entered.

Father and son gazed at each other a moment. 

“I’m sorry I woke you,” Anakin told him, “every time I think I might be getting control…”

“Same one again?” Luke asked sympathetically, moving to the small galley and setting a pot on the stove to quick heat.

He poured the contents of the bottle in and then added a packet of something while Anakin paced around his quarters like a caged rancor.

“Yes. You really don’t have to….”

  
  
“Don’t finish that thought, Father. Of course I  _ want _ to.”

Anakin smelled chocolate with a faint hint of….

“Cenna spice,” Luke finished for him as Anakin came to stand at his son’s side and inhale the smell over the pot.

“This is how Aunt Beru made it. Blue milk with cenna spice.” He pulled it off the heat and poured it into two mugs. Both men leaned their backs against the counter and sipped. 

“Did ah, did she learn that from Grandmother?” Luke asked carefully.

“I don’t know if she learned it from my mother,” Anakin responded softly, “but she did make it this way. I only had it twice in my memory.”

It was warm, not hot, and Luke slid an arm around his waist, and the two of them stood in the dimly lit galley and drank the cocoa.

He loved his son.

  
  


****

When the door chime sounded, Veers wasn’t surprised and moved to palm it.

Piett didn’t even ask permission--he just entered carrying a bottle and went directly for Veers’ cabinet where he kept the glasses. 

“You don’t have to do this every time you know,” the General told his friend who had clearly donned his uniform rather sloppily to hasten here. Piett just threw him a _look_ over his shoulder. 

“And  _ she _ doesn’t need to tattle every time I don’t sleep well,” he continued accusingly, looking up at the ceiling.

The lights flashed green for him.

“Is that what we’re calling it now?” asked the Admiral, turning with two glasses containing a generous amount of scotch. “Nightmares are ‘not sleeping well’?”

“Maybe,” Veers responded grumpily, tugging at his t- shirt and then moving to sit on the sofa.

Piett joined him, sitting close beside him.

They sat for a few minutes and Veers sipped at the scotch. It was one of his favorites and he liked the slow warm burn it created.

“Hoth?” Piett asked. 

“Yes,” Veers replied curtly. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Piett asked quietly.

Veers swallowed the mouthful he had been holding on his tongue, absorbing the smokey sharpness.

“No.”

His friend nodded.

“Fair enough.”   
  


Piett was warm at his side and the scotch was warm in his chest, dispelling the cold of the dream. 

The Admiral held his glass out wordlessly.

Veers tipped his to clink gently against it.

He loved this brother of his.

  
  


*****

Piett squinted at the chronometer. Lovely. A little after four in the morning. And he had the 0800 shift.    
  


But his heart was thundering madly and so he eased himself out of bed. 

He could hear water heating in his kettle as he came out to the small galley and his Lady was doing his best to reassure him, he could tell. She had her soft gold light in the galley as well the water going.

“Thank you, Lady,” he told her, bracing his arms on the counter and bowing his head.

_ Kriff that was the worst.  _

A chime sounded and he knew who it would be as the lady opened his door without him asking.

He turned to face her as she came in, clad in her pajama bottoms and a faded blue sweatshirt that she had pilfered off of Solo, judging by the size.

“I’m very sorry my dear, if I woke you…”

“You didn’t,” she reassured him immediately. “The Lady woke me, and then I sensed your distress.”   
  


He made up two mugs of tea and handed her one before they moved to sit on his sofa.

“Which one was it?” she asked, and he grappled with his guilt. They had promised each other to be there for such things, no matter the time. He was just aware that she had returned from an intense diplomatic mission a mere six hours ago.

“The ah…” he paused, wrestling suddenly with his voice, and _damn_ it, he needed sleep. If he was slipping like this in his control….

“You lose all of us,” she said knowingly

“Yes,” he replied, taking a sip of tea. “And….that’s the third time this week.”

“Admiral of mine,” she said sympathetically, leaning her head on his shoulder. His datapad flashed on the table in front of them and she picked it up.

“Well, I’m right here of course, the Lady is clearly here, and these look to be General Veers’ biometrics. I’m not a doctor, but I think those numbers are good.”   
  


“Yes,” he said nodding, “I appreciate all that. I just…...I need to sleep.” He tried not to sound too frustrated.

He finished his tea and set it on the table.

The princess considered this. “When is your shift?” she asked.

“0800.”

“All right, we can get you about three hours more then.”   
  


She shifted and waved a hand so that Piett’s pillow and throw came floating out of his sleeping area.

“My dear, I am very aware that you got back not long ago…..”

“So I will nap.” She placed his pillow over her knees. “But you need to rest. And this way, my favorite Admiral, if you wake, you will know immediately that you are not alone.”

He did not deserve her.

She coaxed him down, and then his throw was tucking itself around him. Her small hand rested on his shoulder, stroking slowly.

Piett had one more conscious thought before he drifted back to sleep:

He loved this princess of his. And he was not alone.


	103. There's Always Something

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the Skywalker family and their friends. Something is always bound to go wrong.......
> 
> Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This idea popped in after a comment from Jedi_Knights_at_bel_canto_bights. They likely did not realize that this would have such an effect on me but it did and I am grateful. You readers are seriously the best. 
> 
> So this one's for you, Jedi, and thank you for your kindness and encouragement. :D
> 
> Enjoy!! :)

“Fire!” Veers ordered, and all around him the Herd obeyed, pummeling the enemy base. Their troopers ran forward and the General braced himself.

This was it---this was the moment that the enemy would stage a comeback. Surely some unforeseen weapon, or a greater force than they had expected to deal with. 

Instead, he viewed something very peculiar through his viewscope.

“Ellery! Can you confirm for me? Is that man waving a…...white flag?”   
  


The big man stepped up and looked through it himself. 

“Yes, sir, that is exactly what that appears to be.”

_ Well son of a Hutt. _

Veers tried to think of a single other time in his career that this had happened. 

Nothing.

“Fox, Appo, and Dogma. Take squads 5 through 8 and move out to accept the surrender. We’ve got your backs.”   
  


His men obeyed and Veers had Walker 5 trained on the figures coming out of the gates.

Something nefarious would happen now, he was sure. They would try to take down Fox….

The enemy surrendered and exited the base with their hands on their heads.

_ What in the nine hells? _ _   
  
_

“Sweep the base,” he ordered and moved to exit his walker, blaster rifle secure on his back.

He paced around overseeing the loading of the prisoners for transport back up to the Lady, and noted that it was a perfect sort of day really. Not too warm, with a clear blue sky and a very light breeze.

It wasn’t usual for him to have a campaign like this. He was far more used to chilling downpours, frigid snowstorms or sweltering heat.

“Base is clear, General,” came the report over his comlink.

_ It was? _ _   
  
_

“We’re….certain?” he asked. 

“Yes, sir. We can do it again if you wish, sir.”

“No. I trust you. Then….get back here and let’s load up for transport to the Lady.”

He half expected some of the prisoners to try and escape as they made ready for departure.

It was instead a swift and calm flight back to the familiar hangar bay for the Herd and Veers shortly found himself in his office to write up a mission report.

He stared at his blank computer screen, the little cursor blinking at him.

_ All proceeded to plan, _ he wrote.  _ The base was captured and deactivated. No casualties.  _

He hesitated over the send button, but then he did so and rose abruptly to retrieve his cap. 

He needed a drink.

  
  


*****

“Stay sharp!” Luke called to the pilots, and they swerved down smoothly as though they were operating from one consciousness to sweep through the enemy forces, causing devastation as they went. 

He waited for the inevitable explosion of one of their X-Wings, but they continued on untouched as enemy fighters disintegrated all around them.

“Be ready for more of them,” Luke said into comms, “that second Star Destroyer is….”

The Lady sent out a rolling barrage, and the second Star Destroyer exploded into a glittering cloud of debris.

“Never mind,” came Wedge’s voice.

_ All right then. _

“Look out Rogue 7!” Luke shouted, and knew he was too far away to help his fellow pilot.

Rogues 3 and 9 completed a fantastic crisscross maneuver and took care of the threat. 

“Guard the Falcon,” Hobbie said, “she’s taken some damage so I don’t know if she’ll be able to…”

The Falcon’s lasers shot out and eliminated the fighters in her path as she made her way smoothly to one of the Lady’s bays.

And in a matter of shots, the fighters were destroyed. The Lady established her dominance again with a forward barrage, taking out two light cruisers, before the enemy fleet jumped to lightspeed.

“Casualties?” Luke rapped out, accepting as he always did that this was likely.

A beat.

“None, Commander.”

“Does it count if my s-foil has a scratch from Antilles flying a smidge too close?” asked Hobbie.

Derogatory remarks and noises sounded across the comms. 

“If that’s all we have, I’ll take it,” Luke said, feeling stunned. “Head back to the Lady, Rogue Squadron.”

Luke slid down the ladder to the deck and turned to find Han looking at him with a quzzical expression.

“Did that seem….. _ weird _ to you?” his friend asked.

“That we won?” Luke returned, taking off his helmet.

“No casualties,” Han said. “ _ None _ . That’s unheard of!”

“It was a good day?” Luke offered as they began to walk out of the bay.

“This doesn’t happen,” Han insisted. “I have been waiting for the inevitable problem for hours now and the stress is killing me. Luke. The Falcon was damaged and continued  _ working _ .”

“I don’t think she needs to be damaged for that to be miraculous,” Luke told him.

“Hilarious flyboy. Come on. I need a drink.”

  
  


*****

Piett clasped his hands tightly behind his back as he gazed out at the battle before him. His stomach was twisted in all sorts of knots, but he could not let the bridge crew see that. 

_ What in all of the kriffing galaxy was going on? _

The campaign had begun exactly as he had expected it to, with the arrival of far more enemy Star Destroyers than he had anticipated. 

But then…..

Then it had been executed perfectly.

The Lady moved sweetly beneath his feet, doing her graceful dance of death in the stars as she unleashed barrage after barrage upon their foes. Each had hit their targets perfectly, and Piett had already congratulated the weapons crew. 

Indeed he’d had to give the Pit the collective stink eye when they had broken protocols on the sixth such miraculous blast and given a small cheer.

They had suppressed this immediately under their Admiral’s fierce glare, but he could feel their jubilant spirits from here.

He waited to hear that Veers was overwhelmed on the surface.

He waited for comms to tell him that their fighters were getting blown to bits.

He waited to hear that the Falcon was limping back and not likely to make it.

He waited to get the report that the princess and her Father had been chased off the planet to which they had been sent for a very dicey bit of diplomacy.

Nothing.

And the suspense was killing him.

“Fire!” he ordered again, and another Star Destroyer became space dust.

The only shaking the Lady had done was under the force of her own lasers. She had not let any ship get remotely close enough to touch her or her powerful shields. 

He watched their fighter pilots maneuvering effortlessly outside of the viewport.

_ What was he missing? _

He gave the command to fire the forward batteries and two more enemy cruisers were gone. Moments later the remains of their fleet followed, and Piett was immediately ordering reports.

He stood in his customary position, reviewing each one as they came to his datapad while Kelly checked in at the stations on the bridge. 

No casualties. Veers was heading back up.

No casualties. Commander Skywalker had ordered Rogue Squadron back in.

No casualties. The fleet was….wait. He highlighted the sentence. No. False alarm. Madine had walked into closed doors on the Lady before the conflict began, so that hardly counted as a casualty. Piett cast a suspicious eye up at his ship and received an all too innocent feeling from her. Hmmmm. 

Logging away that discussion to have with the Lady about her sense of humor, Piett finished scanning all the reports.

_ Utterly no issues. _

He glanced at the chronometer, and he was supposed to be off duty an hour ago.

“Crew!” he said looking around. “Very well done indeed today. You should be very proud.”

“Captain,” he rapped out, and Kelly looked over.

“You have the bridge.”

Kelly had barely stammered an ‘aye, sir’ before Piett was striding out the blast doors.

He needed a drink.

  
  


*****

Thus it was that Anakin and his daughter found their people in the Alliance lounge, seated, not in their usual place by the willows, but around one of the larger round tables in the room, already two drinks in, apparently.

Given that he himself had come here for this very purpose after a stunningly uneventful diplomatic mission, Anakin welcomed the company, though he noted that all of them had that thousand yard stare which meant stories to tell.

He braced himself for the awful reports after he ordered himself a cognac, and his daughter had placed herself between Solo and her Admiral.

She had a whiskey in front of her and Leia only drank that when things were bad so he knew he wasn’t feeling alone.

“All right,” he said in his customary blunt way. Might as well get it over with so they could grieve and move on. “How bad was it?”

Luke looked at him curiously, then exchanged a glance with Solo.

“Well…...that’s just it Father. It wasn’t bad at all, to be honest.”

Anakin raised an eyebrow and turned his gaze on Piett who could always be trusted to give him an accurate report.

But the Admiral’s hazel eyes were wide as he gave a small shake of the head.

“Commander Skywalker is correct, sir. No casualties.”

_ No…… _

“You mean not as many as we could have had,” Anakin corrected, but Veers spoke up next.

“No, my Lord. No casualties at all. None wounded or killed.”

A beat.

“Damage to your Herd then.”

“No, sir.” Veers took a drink and grimaced.

“Luke, surely the Squadron….”   
  


“Not sure what that says about your opinion of us, Father,” his son rebuked gently with a smile. “But the worst we can claim is the scratch on Hobbie’s s-foil from where Wedge clipped him.”

Veers snorted in tandem with Solo.

“Klivian would report a splinter in his finger if he got one,” Veers said, and Piett gave him a chiding look.

“All of you look so very stunned.  _ Something  _ must have happened. Admiral, did we lose….?”

“Not a single soul was lost in the fleet, my Lord,” Piett said, taking his own shot and tapping immediately for another.

Anakin was trying to understand and interestingly it was Solo who piped up.

“Yeah, you’re looking about like how we feel there.”

“Utterly nothing went wrong,” Veers stated. “All of it was flawless from beginning to end.”

“No surprise enemy forces?” Anakin asked him as his drink arrived.

“No, sir.”

“No subterfuge aboard the Lady?”

“Only what she herself perpetuated,” Piett said, raising an eyebrow at the ceiling.

<Lady? Anakin asked.>

<General Madine bounced right off the door as though made of Kaliptean rubber, Dark One. It did not even break his nose.>

Anakin grinned and Piett, reading this correctly, sighed. 

“What of your mission, my dear?” the Admiral asked, turning to the princess at his side who was taking an impressive gulp of her own drink. “I had understood it was going to be very challenging indeed.”   
  


Anakin shared a look with his daughter.

“It went…...very well,” she answered and took another drink. Solo raised his eyebrows.

“Okay, that’s a lot of rapid drinking from you for a mission that went ‘very well’,” he told her.

Anakin spoke up. “She is correct. We were prepared to do battle…”

“Not literally,” put in the princess hastily, seizing the rest of Solo’s drink.

“Hey!”

“...and instead they acquiesced to every one of the requests made by the New Republic,” Anakin finished, as Piett tried to subtly slide his newly delivered shot out of reach of the princess.

“I thought the entire reason they wanted your Darthness along was to help…. _ encourage _ the negotiations,” said Solo obnoxiously. 

“It was,” Anakin agreed, deciding to be unperturbed as Piett and Veers were clearly waiting for a reaction. “But as it turned out, I merely had the pleasure of piloting my daughter there and back.”

“ _ Your _ pleasure maybe,” muttered Leia into the shot glass she had used the Force on, despite Piett’s grab for it as it floated past. “I spent the whole trip sure that after everything I was going to die in an explosion.”

“I got us back in record time, did I not?” Anakin asked, taking a more leisurely sip of his drink.

Piett patted her arm and very smoothly removed the shot glass from her hand to prevent it being fired at his commander’s head.

“The point is, my Lord,” the Admiral said, motioning to the server droid for another drink since the princess had claimed his. “Every single one of our objectives and missions has gone perfectly. I am not sure what to make of it.”

A beat.

Piett’s drink arrived and he downed it with impressive speed and skill, though Anakin could see his eyes water and Veers grinned as the Admiral took several deep breaths. Solo, unsurprisingly broke the silence.

“So we’re all waiting for the kark up of epic proportions.”

“Exactly,” Veers agreed, saluting with his glass before emptying it.

Everyone sat in silence again, nursing their drinks and brooding on what this could mean.

And Anakin decided that he could be wicked in a very small way. Because all of them were in the perfect place for this to resonate so very well and satisfyingly.

“Well,” he said, sipping his cognac elegantly, and Luke looked at him sharply, as did his twin--both sensing that mischief was afoot. 

“It could be worse.”

The entire table groaned and Solo swore.

“ _ Now _ it will be, my Lord, thank you for  _ that _ ,” said Veers grimly. 

Piett had his head in his hands, and Leia was glaring at him across the table.

As they all ordered another round, Anakin was reminded that he deeply enjoyed working with all of these people. Also, he was the only one here who didn’t get hangovers, due to his numerous procedures. 

The morning would be amusing. 


	104. Dealing with the Doctor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On a ground mission, Veers and Henley are separated from the others and this time, the Doctor is the one injured.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some time ago now Mathmusic8 asked for a fic where Henley was injured and wondered how he would deal. I am at last returning to some one shot prompts after several longer stories tackled me face first into writing. 
> 
> So thank you for your patience mathmusic8! Here it is and I hope you enjoy! :)

_ Damn, damn, damn and kriffing damn. _

Veers hated getting separated from Piett on ground missions like this. Well. There was also the issue of Piett  _ being _ on ground missions like this, but that was fodder for another time. The Admiral had insisted that he come for this final push against this group---something about a promise he had made to the people here back when he was a captain in the Axxilan fleet. Veers highly doubted that anyone was left who would recall this promise, but it was important to Piett that he keep his word.

Unfortunately, what was supposed to be a simple mopping up operation had become far more challenging. 

Reluctant to give up their hold on this poor Outer Rim planet, the last of the group known as the Devil’s Hand (so dramatic these groups, Veers always thought) were entrenching themselves in a suicidal last hold out. 

And then nature herself had decided to join the party, and a massive earthquake shook them all. 

It was then that Veers lost sight of his friend. Lost sight of everything really because he’d been knocked unconscious as he and his men scrambled to get clear of falling buildings.

Night was falling now, and he was reasonably sure he was on the northwest outskirts of this settlement, having taken cover in the sparse woodlands nearby. His comlink wasn’t working (of course) and he was lucky to have maintained a hold on his blaster rifle. 

He supposed there were ways that things could be worse. Not many, but there were.

“Oh  _ shavit _ . Why the  _ Force _ would any of you want to operate with a dislocated joint?”

_ That _ . That was an example of how things were actually worse.

_ Because of all the people he got stuck with on this hell hole, he ended up with Dr. my-arrogance-blinds-even-myself-Henley. _

“Doctor,” he hissed, “could you  _ attempt _ to remember that there are suicidal enemy troops out there, and I have no idea where our people are?”

It was too dark to see Henley’s expression, but Veers was confident he was receiving a weapons’ grade glare. 

“Yes, fine, but  _ hells _ , Veers. I know for a fact that almost all of the senior officers have operated with dislocated joints on missions, and I consider all of you bloody idiots!”

Veers scanned the darkness, trying to gauge things in the now dramatically changed landscape. 

“Further, I’m going to need you to...”

“Shut  _ up _ !” he hissed furiously. “I am trying to get us out of this alive, Doctor, and your whinging is not helping.”

“My…..” the Doctor subsided in a hissing splutter of fury and Veers couldn’t be bothered to care as he wished futiley for infrared.

_ You win universe. No idea where I am and you stuck me with Henley. Well played. Well played indeed. _

“All right,” Veers said softly, turning to the man at his side, “I’m going to try and put your shoulder back and then we need to move west toward where I  _ think  _ our people are….”

A definite scoff and Veers marveled that he knew the expression on Henley’s face, even though he couldn’t see the man.

“I’m sorry, I thought I just heard you say you were going to attempt to put my shoulder back. _You_.”

“Or we can leave it as is, your call, really,” said the General, fed up and hating everything. He almost wanted the enemy to find them at this point so he could rip them apart with his hands and relieve his feelings here.

“Oh for….fine. I will talk you through it.”

Veers smirked into the dim light.

“But first we need to get somewhere you can see better,” the Doctor insisted.

“I thought you couldn’t  _ possibly  _ move with your arm like this,” Veers reminded him.

“I didn’t say I couldn’t,” Henley snapped in a furious whisper, “I said I don’t understand all of you idiots who seem to see injuries like this as a requirement for missions.”

“And does ‘all of us idiots’ include our commanding officer, Doctor? Because that is some spine even for you….”

“I have known him longer and better than you, Veers…”

_ And how did the man manage to convey that lofty tone in a pained whisper? _

“...so you had better kriffing  _ believe  _ that he is the Idiot in Chief when it comes to this.”

_ All right then. _

“Then let’s get you up and moving to a spot where it’s safe to have a little more light.”

“Wait,” the Doctor said, giving a pained hiss as Veers got him up to his feet. “Do we even have a light source?”

“On my blaster rifle,” Veers told him, moving slowly over the uneven ground, holding Henley firmly around the waist.

“That’s all?”

“I do regret not grabbing a spotlight while buildings were falling on us,” Veers replied tersely. “Terrible oversight on my part.”   
  


A tiny snort.

“Has anyone ever told you General, that….?”

“Yes,” Veers interrupted, “now--- Shut. Up.”

His eyes were doing better in the dark now and he could just make out a large shape in the distance, back lit by a dying fire. 

That was one of his Herd or Veers would eat his cap.

Of course, it was a good mile away at least. 

Henley was moaning softly under his breath now.

“Seriously!” Veers growled. “Nothing is even broken!!”

“Unlike you, General, I am in the practice of healing injuries, not inflicting them,” Henley shot back, “and this hurts like a son of a Hutt. Excuse  _ me  _ for not being the stoic soldier.”

“Yes, stoic isn’t a word I would use for you,” Veers agreed. “Oh  _ shavit _ !!”

Out of the darkness loomed two huge shapes. Veers dropped Henley, ignoring his yelp of pain and tried to bring his rifle to bear.

A tremendous blow sent him flying into the dirt, but he was rolling even as he landed, and swinging the rifle around, flicking on the light in a smooth motion to see the thing he was shooting at.

Oh. Wonderful. Tognath.

He fired, taking down the first one, and jerked as the blaster of the second one winged him. It had the benefit, however, of placing him and Veers fired again unerringly. He slapped his light off again and waited, trying to listen for enemies over the wild beating of his own heart. 

“Doctor!” he called softly, after he was certain there weren’t more at the moment.

“Henley!!”   
  


“Over….here.”

He moved in the direction of the pained voice, his night vision shot once more from using his rifle light. 

He almost tripped over Henley.

“Force damn it, Veers!”

“Sorry, Doctor.”

He hauled the man to his feet and they managed to stagger another 500 yards before the General realized that they were going downhill and he decided to chance the light if that was a boulder over there.

It was, and he sat Henley down before flicking on the light once more.

He set the rifle down and leaned over the Doctor.

“All right. Boss the life out of me,” he told him, but Henley who had been uncharacteristically tight lipped looked at him and frowned.

“Are you  _ shot _ ?”

“A little bit.”

“A  _ little… _ .” Henley closed his eyes in exasperation. “Veers, for kriff’s sake…”

“Doctor.” He was firm. And he knew it was a minor graze. “It’s fine. Talk me through the shoulder before we _both_ get shot.”

Henley shifted, with much groaning, to lie down. 

“Straight out at 90 degrees,” he began, and there followed some of the most unpleasant 3 minutes of Veers’ life.

But at last the joint popped back in, and Henley gave forth an intricately colorful amount of swearing. 

Veers reached to switch the light off.

“What are you doing?” the Doctor hissed. “I need to see your wound!”

“I think I know when I’m seriously hit or not, Doctor, and I assure you, this is like a burn more than anything else. We need to get to the others.”   
  


If Henley gave him any more grief about it, he was knocking him out and dragging him to safety.

“Fine. _Then_ I’m dealing with it.”

“Maybe.”

“Veers….”

“Stealth, Doctor? A word you seem to be ignorant of?” the General hissed furiously, moving forward once more, Henley trotting at his heels much more easily now.

He was certain he could see the AT AT looming before them.

“All you hero types. Utterly thick. Did I ask to be out here? No! But Lord Vader insisted and here I am with my arm hurting like a Hutt sucker and….”   
  


Veers whirled almost running head on into the Doctor.

“It hurts a lot more to be dead. Just a thought, Doctor.”

Apparently Henley was entering the complaining championships. 

“You don’t have to put your men back together again, General,” he whispered angrily, as Veers spun back around to continue.

“You don’t have your hands deep in their insides holding them together and hoping….”

Oh he was not doing this now.

“Don’t I?” he snarled, not bothering to turn around now. “Yes, do tell _me_ Doctor, how it is to hold my best friend’s insides in his body and  _ hope _ . I wouldn’t  _ know _ , would I?”

Heavy and oppressive silence at last from behind him and Veers’ anger was carrying him forward.

“General.”

Henley had stopped, judging from the distance his voice came from.

Veers whirled. “Come on!” he ordered, amazed that they hadn’t been shot at yet.

Which is when the shooting started, naturally.

He ran back, seized Henley’s arm and sprinted for the AT AT, the darkness lighting up around them with the flash of blasters and thermo detonators.

Suddenly, the head of the walker shifted and began to spit at the darkness around them. And Veers realized that blaster fire was being sent over their heads….

They had made it back to their lines.

He and Henley threw themselves, panting, behind a makeshift wall of rubble that the troopers had hastily constructed. 

“General!” Fox was kneeling by him and the clone commander looked very intense as the firefight lit up his face.

“I’m glad you’re here, sir.”

“Worried?” Veers asked with a wry grin.

Fox didn’t miss a beat. “Not in the least, sir. But the Admiral was ready to lead a party himself to find you, sir and you know what he’s like if he’s on the warpath.”

He paused.

“And if it’s you.”

Veers snorted.

“Tell him I’m here then, would you, Commander?”

“Yes, sir.”

And Fox didn’t need to press his hand to Veers’ shoulder to rise, but he did anyway.

_ Didn’t do attachments, Veers’ sainted aunt….. _

“General.”

Henley, right, Henley was still here.

“Yes, Doctor.”

“I need to apologize.”

_ Had the galaxy ever witnessed that? _ __  
  


He turned to look at the man as familiar sounds filled the air, and then Antilles’ squadron made short work of anyone still firing at them. Veers could finally relax.

“It’s fine, Doctor…”

“It’s not fine.”

Veers held his gaze, difficult as it was in the dim light.

“It was callous, General, and I may have no problem saying things as they are, but I wouldn’t be cruel. I forgot that you know that well, and I apologize for reminding you of one of the worst times….” he trailed off.

Veers cleared his throat. 

“Thank you, Doctor.”

“I swear, I let you out of my sight for two minutes….!” a familiar tenor voice sounded above him, and the slim shape of the Admiral could be made out.

Veers squinted at the hand Piett was holding out to him and he grasped it firmly to rise.

“The last of the holdouts surrendered, I just got word,” the Admiral informed him. “Are you alright?”

“A graze. The Doctor can take a look,” Veers said and ignored Henley’s little sound of astonishment at this willingness. 

“All right then,” Piett said, releasing the grip on his arm, “we have a covered area over here. Let’s get that taken care of. Doctor, how are you?”

And Henley surprised him.

“Perfectly fine, Admiral, it’s all of _you_ sacrificial ones we have to look out for. Lead the way.”

Occasionally, the Doctor could be bearable.


	105. Deep Wounds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We learn how General Veers lost his family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This prompt was suggested by ZAPPAletmesleep. It was brutal to write and I kid you not, I was crying while doing it. But I appreciated the prompt. I know it's been done by at least a few other writers, so this is my take.  
> I hope you get a different look at our General here and what he's like. Perhaps speculate on who he could have been if he hadn't lost them. And if you're like me, you will be rather keen to give him a hug.
> 
> Just warning you--it really hurts.

“What do you mean,” Veers said in a voice that terrified Imperial ensigns and Rebel upstarts alike, “there’s nothing you can do? Make an antidote for kriff’s sake! This is the age of modern medicine so I’m told! Why haven’t you done so already?”

White sterile room.

The smell of cleaning agents and clean plastic.

Myra’s massive green eyes, luminous and full of grief.

She looked so small in the surgical gown, perched on the examination table.

Veers hated being out of uniform for this. He felt more vulnerable than at any other time in his life and did not even have the gaberwool protection.

He was sure he would remember this forever. This moment burned into his brain---the doctor, trained in his professional sympathy. The medical droid hovering near his wife. The lights that are too bright and the beep of a heart monitor. It is a ticking bomb now.

Because those beats have a limit, or so he’s just been told.

And no. He will not accept that. He is Iron Max Veers. And he does not give up.

“Of _course_ there is something you can do!” he insisted, even though some invisible force was squeezing his heart unmercifully, so hard he could barely breathe.

“Max…..”

Her voice, so calm and kind.

“I’m sorry, Colonel. If there was, we would do it I assure you. As it is, you have time to get to Denon if that is what you desire…..”

“What I  _ desire _ ,” Veers snarled, shoving the med droid away to crash into the opposite wall with a startled shriek, and moving to tower over the doctor, “is for you to save my  _ wife _ , you bastard….!”

“Colonel, this doesn’t achieve anything, please don’t make me call security….”

“Max Veers.”

He stopped dead at that tone.

“Would you give us a moment, doctor?” she said.

“Certainly,” the man replied, clearly relieved and he stepped out, hauling the damaged droid after him.

He couldn’t turn to face her. He had never felt pain like this…. If he didn’t accept it, then somehow it wouldn’t be real….

“Darling, please come here.”

He clenched his fists and turned at last to face her--to look directly at the green eyes he had fallen for the first time and the thought of them, staring fixed in death…..

He gave a sharp gasp as his lungs seemed to not want to work anymore.

He moved to her and found himself stumbling to his knees.

She was off the table and with him in a heartbeat, cradling his head to her chest and he could hear that wonderful muscle, working as it ought to, but for how long?

“Dearest,” she whispered, stroking his hair. “This is not what we want Zev to see. I know you don’t. And now we have to think of him first. My darling. Oh,  _ Max _ .”

Her voice trembled a little then, and it broke him.

Iron Max who had handled the loss of men and awful wounds, but her voice, her wonderful, musical voice broke him, and he sobbed into her blue gown.

There on the cold floor of the examination room, he knelt before the most marvelous gift the universe had ever given him, and he wept because now it was cruelly stripping that gift from him. From his young son. 

_ Days _ . 

They had days at best. 

She cradled his head tenderly and stroked his back, and  _ she  _ comforted  _ him, _ his profoundly compassionate wife, the woman who had seen through his defenses and married him anyway.

Myra.

He knew she was crying too as he clutched her tightly to himself. He couldn’t bear to not touch her. He had so little time left to do so.

“I know,” she whispered, dropping her lips to his hair. “I know and my greatest grief is to leave you here. Who else will know you as I have? Dearest Colonel. My Max. Promise me you will show that courageous heart of yours to at least one other person. Don’t isolate yourself,  _ please  _ my dear.”

He nodded against her, knowing as he did so it was a lie. There was no one else. Never had been and never would be. Not for him. He knew this in his bones.

Later, when the last well meaning person had left and her mother had touched his arm briefly, he stood with Zev at her grave, and internally cursed the bright sunlight pouring down all around them.

Didn’t nature understand? It was wrong. She was  _ there  _ and he and Zev were  _ here _ , and it should be dark and the rain should be mourning with them. 

His eight year old son clung close to him--his son with her eyes--and Zev lifted them to his Father.

“Grandad said to ‘be brave’, Dad.”

Veers tightened his arm around the boy, and cursed the sky for not raining because he couldn’t disguise the tears on his cheeks. 

Veers wasn’t close with her parents. They hadn’t approved of their marriage---an army man didn’t earn the salary that a lawyer could. But they had been civil and they loved Zev. 

“He’s trying to encourage you, son.”

A beat and somewhere birds were singing, and he could smell the flowers piled over the casket---her favorites---so stunning and he  _ couldn’t… _ .

“Dad.”

It was a whisper.

“I don’t know how to be brave for this.”

A sob escaped Veers' lips and this time he knelt in the soft earth, ruining the knees of his trousers as he gathered the boy to himself.

“I don’t either, Zev. We’ll have to help each other, yeah?”

Zev dropped his blonde head to his Father’s broad shoulder, and the two remaining Veers poured out their grief to each other by her grave. 

  
  


********

He’d known the moment he reached the tiny, crumpled form on the deck that it was too late.

Veers was rather sure that it was that moment he had started to hate what the Empire had become. 

An entity that didn’t care if one little boy lived or died. Didn’t mind who or what it shoved aside to maintain its grip on power and image.

And if one little boy had been watching for the arrival of the Emperor on the ship from the catwalk, and if troopers were hurrying into position (because they were late) then it must have been his own fault when he fell, right?

Even over the noise of the thousands of troops getting into place, Veers had heard the scream of his son--- _ Force _ the  _ scream _ \--- as he fell, and he was running, ignoring the outraged shouts of his General and the Admiral. He was shoving men aside like so many branches until….

...until he reached the small ring of troopers around a still form on the gleaming black deck, and one had actually had the humanity to take off his helmet and reach for Zev but Veers snarled like a feral Loth wolf and the man backed away.

“Zev,” he’d whispered, and he didn’t care if his men saw him crawling on his hands and knees, “Zevulon. Please buddy….”

His son’s eyes were open and he was partly on his side, thick blood dribbling out the corner of his mouth and a dark pool around his head already. 

“Medic!!” Veers had screamed, and it resonated through the big bay.

He placed a careful hand on Zev’s back---no doubt so many broken bones. 

And his son blinked once.

“Dad.” More blood gushed from his mouth as he said it.

“Don’t….don’t talk, son. Please, oh buddy….”

He had never in a million years thought he would have to watch another set of green eyes begin to cloud over.

“Dad…..”

“I’m here…..”

Was that a tiny attempt at a smile? Years later Veers told himself that it was.

And he saw the moment his son left him too. 

There was a moment of eerie silence. 

Then Veers roared his anguish and things became a haze after that.

“Clear this away, the Emperor will be here any moment.”

“Control yourself, Colonel,  _ kriff _ , help me with him, he’s gone mad…!”

Other hands touching his son, lifting that broken body onto a gravsled and he fought, oh he fought, to get to Zev, because no one else should touch him,  _ no one _ …

They told him later he put six men into the medbay.

In that moment he didn’t care if he slaughtered a division. 

_ His son….. _

Someone shot him with a stun blast, and that was his last memory until he woke up in another white room with another professional face telling him in professional tones that they were all so very  _ sorry  _ and of course leave would be given….

No responsibility taken for shoving a young boy off the catwalk. No apology for the devastation of his life…..

So Veers had made another trip to Denon with a much smaller casket. Her parents were there and possibly vague friends. Veers didn’t know. He went through the motions. And when everyone had left this time,  _ this  _ time at least, the universe allowed itself to mourn with him.

He stood for hours in the rain speaking brokenly to his son and his wife, pouring out his grief and anguish to them--his fear that he would forget their voices, that he wouldn’t recall the sound of her laugh, or what the clutch of Zev’s arms around his neck had felt like. That he would implode from the gaping loneliness in his soul. 

When he came to himself, he was Iron Max Veers. Colonel in the Imperial forces. Cog in the great machine. He had his men and he had his job. He would be magnificent at both. But he was not ‘Max’. That was a person he left in the mud by two graves, never to return, always to mourn. To be alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to once again credit Impishgrin for naming Myra and Zev in A Certain Time of Year, which is where I got the names. Incidentally a fabulous piece of writing and you guys should check it.


	106. Things lost and things gained

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Veers has an accident that gives him temporary amnesia, taking him back to the year after Zev died.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My brain must be on a Veers kick over here in this AU. And I'm not complaining! I actually wrote this before the last installment and so I find it fairly perfect to give you now. While not fluff, precisely, I think we can likely define it as 'Wishful fluff' xD
> 
> Anyway, people get a chance to show our favorite General that he is loved.

Veers blinked. His head hurt terrifically and that was about all he could focus on at the moment. A face came into view and a scanner whirred.

Something hissed into his shoulder, and the pain in his head eased terrifically, allowing him to focus.

“There we are, General,” said the man, setting the scanner down, and standing with his hands on his hips, looking quite imperious.

_ General? _

“You mean Colonel, Doctor,” Veers told him, easing himself into a sitting position. This was a sickbay, but not one he recognized.

“Hmmmm...” the Doctor frowned, and ran the scanner again.

“I’m perfectly fine, Doctor. What happened?”

“How about you tell me what you remember?” the Doctor said, giving him an unreadable look.

“Doctor, do not get that tone with me. I am perfectly all right…..I was….”   
  


_ But what was he doing? _ Suddenly things he was certain of, disintegrated into grey fuzz. 

The Doctor met his eyes. “It’s all right, um, Veers. You had a bad blow to the head. I am certain things will come back. Can you tell me the last things you recall?”

The Doctor leaned to the medic next to him, to murmur, “Comm Admiral Piett to come here now. Quickly.”

“I was returning from a...a visit to Denon.” His throat closed up suddenly, Zev’s death still fresh in his mind. _ Only a year, how was it possible? His little boy…... _

“Mm. What were you doing there?”

“I…..don’t see that I need to share that with you.”

The Doctor shrugged. “True, but I think it may help your memory.”

Veers felt a surge of anger. This was private and no arrogant _kriffer_ of a doctor….

“Why don’t you tell me where I am? For all I know this is a Rebel base and you’re giving me hallucinogens!!!”

“You are on the SSD Executor,” came a calm, tenor voice, and he looked over to see a short Imperial Admiral enter the room, exchanging a swift glance with the Doctor before returning his attention to Veers.

“That is Doctor Henley, who is abrasive but very good at his job. I assure you, you are not in the hands of the Rebels.”

The Doctor made an indignant huff. 

“Who are you, then?” Veers asked aggressively. “I don’t recognize you.”

  
  
Something passed through the man’s hazel eyes, but he kept his face steady. “I am Admiral Piett. I command this fleet. This ship is my flagship.”

_ He had never heard of Piett. Surely he would have heard of a fleet admiral. And…..wait.  _

“The Executor? She isn’t complete yet! I thought she was scheduled to leave Kuat in three months time.”

All of his suspicions were flooding back and Henley was looking alarmed as the heart monitor sped up. 

“Max…” the Admiral put out a hand and Veers glared. Slowly Piett put it back down at his side.

“What do you recommend, Doctor?” the man asked and the sour faced Henley squinted at him.

“This is temporary, I can assure you both of that. But yes, Admiral, you would be the right person to fill  _ Colonel  _ Veers in. He informs me that he has just returned from a visit to Denon.”

“From…” A wash of sad understanding crossed Piett’s face. “When you were a Colonel…..”

Veers watched him suspiciously. Piett turned to Henley. “Is he physically able to leave? That might help.”

The man sighed as though the weight of the galaxy was upon him. “Fine.  _ Colonel _ , your uniform is through here where you can change.”

Half expecting to be tackled to the bed and cuffed, Veers swung his legs over and managed to make it to his feet. He swayed a little and saw Piett restrain himself from helping.

_ Who was this Admiral? _ _  
  
_

He found the room indicated and dressed swiftly, feeling much more confident in uniform. Except…..General’s bars.

_ What in all of the Force forsaken galaxy was happening? _ _  
  
_

He stepped out.

“All right. I have General’s bars here. And you, Doctor, referred to me that way when I woke. Fill me in.”

“Veers,” said Henley, “you have temporary amnesia from an accident. I will let Admiral Piett explain what you need. If you have any blinding head pain, come back here immediately, clear?”

Not caring for the demanding tone, but glad to be leaving, Veers merely nodded.

“This way, Colonel,” said Piett courteously,and Veers followed him out into gleaming black and grey corridors. He really was on a Star Destroyer then. Piett led the way to a lift and Veers followed without comment, studying this man without trying to hide it.

Mid forties, with just a few flecks of grey in the brown hair at his temples. Pleasant lines at the corners of his eyes and around his mouth. Large eyes, slim build and one of the straightest spines Veers had ever seen.

“Executor…..she’s meant to be Vader’s ship,” he said and watched the man’s jaw tighten.

“She is.”   
  


Well. Interesting tid bit.

“Where are we going?”

“I thought it might be easier to talk in my office.”

Veers was now very unsure what to make of all this, but he was not about to reveal that to a potential Rebel interrogator. Certainly not to a naval man.

They exited and several crewmen saluted as they went past. Piett nodded calmly before using his code cylinder for his office and they stepped in.

If they were deceiving him, it was very elaborate indeed. 

“Would you like to sit?” the Admiral asked.

“No thank you.”

Piett nodded as though he had expected that. “Look…..Colonel, I know you well.”

Veers scoffed and Piett bit his lip, then smoothed his expression.

“Obviously, you don’t believe that at the moment. So. You appreciate bluntness. I will tell you what has passed from the time you recall to now. I promise you I will not be asking questions---I am not an interrogator and this is real.”

_ So he had known Veers was thinking that. Interesting. _

“You may ask me whatever you wish, and I promise you to answer it truthfully to the best of my ability.”

He stood behind his desk, hands behind his back, and there was something about the man, despite being a naval officer, that had Veers inclined to believe him. 

“Very well. Tell me.”

Piett cleared his throat and tugged the hem of his jacket slightly. 

“If I am correct, it has been roughly a year since…..the accident and Zev’s death. You will be assigned to the Death Star if you haven’t been already.”

He had just received the orders, but kept his face utterly impassive.

“Your shuttle was shot down over Yavin which turned out to be happy accident or the Force, possibly. The Death Star was destroyed by the Alliance.”

“You mean the Rebels,” Veers said coldly.

Piett considered. “I mean the Alliance, Colonel as you will see.”

_ As he would see? _

“Wait, how could it possibly have been destroyed….?”

“Because a Jedi pilot took an impossible shot.”

  
  
Veers digested this.

Piett watched him. “Shall I continue?”

Veers made a ‘go on’ gesture and moved about the office, noting very old framed maps.  _ Were they flimsi…? They were. _

“You gave me those,” Piett said mildly.

He swung around. “Because we’re….. _friends_.”

“Yes.”

Veers narrowed his eyes. “I’ll be honest, Admiral. I don’t do friends. And I have to say I wouldn’t do friends with the  _ navy _ .”

Piett pinched the bridge of his nose. “Well I would have said the same too, Max, but then you came along and changed all my preconceptions about you dirt pounders.”

_ The horribly wounded Admiral was removing his oxygen mask to smile. _

_ “Dirt….pounder….” he managed, and Veers was grasping his hand, trying not to let his concern show….. _

He met hazel eyes across the room.

“Did you recall something?” asked Piett.

And Veers grasped for it but it was gone like smoke. Still…. _something_ had stirred he was sure of it. Enough of a something that he was willing to believe this wasn’t a Rebel plot.

“I’m….not sure.”   
  


He shook himself. “Continue please.”

“You were assigned to the Executor shortly after that. I came aboard about a year after you did.”

“Did I know you before?”

“I don’t think so. I commanded the Avenger. I came aboard the Executor as a mere Captain.”

Veers moved back toward the desk, noting that Piett had a beautiful model of an ancient ship of the sea.

“This is a lovely piece of woodwork,” he commented.

Piett’s gaze softened. “Yes,” he agreed. “I….have a bit of a weakness for tall ships like that. The prin…...that is, someone very dear to me gave it to me.”

“So we served on Executor together. Is that where we were introduced?”

“Yes.”

“I have to ask---why the  _ Force  _ would we associate with one another?”   
  


Piett chuckled and it changed his face from stern Admiral to the sort of man who received gifts from loved ones.

“Most people asked that at the time as well. I agree it was unlikely. But….we had a challenging Admiral to serve under. He enjoyed the division between the army and navy. You and I…...we set out to change that----help the Imperial forces work more…..efficiently.”

Veers noted several holo images on the Admiral’s desk.

“May I?” he asked, gesturing.

“Please.”

He picked up the first one and saw that it was himself...and the Admiral. Someone had captured quite an amazing shot. Both of them looked so….unguarded, happily smiling at each other. Veers tried to imagine himself doing something like that ever again.

The next was an assortment of people at a gathering of some kind. He was there as well. And….kriffing hells, was that…?”   
  


“You are wondering at the presence of the princess,” Piett said matter of factly.

“Damn straight. What happened? We look….friendly. Who are these other people?”

Piett seemed to be bracing himself for something.

“Are you ready to hear this? Head hurting or…?”

“Report, Admiral,” Veers snapped, and Piett inexplicably grinned.

“You can’t give me orders, General. But all right. That is Anakin Skywalker. Yes, the General from the Clone Wars. Turns out he became Darth Vader. This is his son, Luke Skywalker---kid who took the shot that blew up the first Death Star.”

_ First _ , Veers found himself mouthing. 

“This is Han Solo, ex smuggler and the princess’s significant other. The princess as it turned out is the twin sister of Luke Skywalker. Lord Vader did not know he had children until the battle of Yavin. He set out to find the son and he succeeded after….”

Piett trailed off, staring down at his desk.

“It was a brutal campaign. You and I…..well. You were my rock, General, no getting around it. Lord Vader informed me then that Skywalker was his son. I agreed to help them overthrow the Emperor.”

Veers gaped. “You…..committed  _ treason _ .”

“I did,” Piett answered steadily, “as did you.”

Veers sat down.

His brain was whirling around all of this.

“I would  _ never… _ .” he began and paused. They were here. Alive and on this ship. So….

“It worked then?” he asked. 

“It did,” Piett said briefly, tapping something into a data pad. “I imagine a drink wouldn’t go amiss at the moment. Care to join me in the officer’s lounge?”

_ Jedi….Vader…..children….. _

“Yes, please.”

Piett led the way once more and Veers managed to recover speech in the lift.

“Why did I agree to help commit treason?” he asked quietly. “I….did not think myself the sort of man who…”

Piett looked uncomfortable.

“My understanding is that Lord Vader informed you that Skywalker was his son. And that the Emperor was his Sith master.”

Veers blinked.

“Yes. Um, I wasn’t there at the time so….”

“ _ You _ didn’t tell me? I thought we were supposedly friends.”

Piett flushed at that. “We were! I….I was ordered not to tell you yet. Lord Vader wished to tell you himself, but then things….”

“What happened?” Veers pushed, recalling the Admiral’s promise to tell him what he needed to know, but somehow he felt guilty for pushing Piett on this.

“I….was captured,” the Admiral settled on, looking anywhere but at Veers. “You and his Lordship, together with Skywalker, recovered me. It was discovered that the Emperor had tried to kill both Lord Vader and….me.”

“You nearly died,” Veers said abruptly, knowing it somehow. 

And Piett’s eyes landed on his.

“Yes, do you recall….?”

“I’m sorry, no,” Veers said. “I’m glad we saved you then.”

“As am I,” the Admiral responded, daring to lay a quick hand on Veers’ shoulder. They reached their destination, and a few strides left them in a massive lounge. Numerous officers were here, and acknowledged their presence respectfully, dispelling any more doubts Veers had about Rebels.

Then they were approaching a table by the giant viewports, and a petite figure with elaborate braids was rising to meet them, her blue attire very suited to her delicate features. 

“Dear General,” she said, coming to him to take his hand, “I’m so very glad to see you up. The Admiral tells me you um….are having a memory lapse.”

Veers felt his brain shorting out. The Princess Organa---known Rebel sympathizer and possible insurgent herself---- was looking at him as though he was a dear friend. Was holding his hand affectionately.

“I….I’m sorry I am having a difficult time seeing a Rebel leader here on this ship with…” he trailed off as she raised her eyebrows.

“How much time are you missing, General?”

He glanced at Piett who answered for him. “It seems about nine years, my dear,” he responded. 

_ Nine years. Nine years of his life missing…. _

“How about that drink then?” Piett asked and Veers nodded, gratefully. 

“Yes a ….”

“Whiskey neat, I would imagine,” Piett told him.

_ Precisely right. _

“.....please.”

The Admiral moved off and the princess gestured to a seat.

He sank into the one opposite her, slowly.

“So this is quite overwhelming then,” she said.

“One way of putting it yes.”

“I think the Admiral was hoping seeing me might shock your memory back, but clearly it hasn’t,” she commented, watching him.

He was still reconciling this young woman before him with the picture at the top of their ‘must watch’ list. 

She nodded. “I assure you, you and I have ceased wanting to kill each other for some time now.”

“You don’t soften the blow,” he said dryly.

She smiled brightly at him and he blinked at the brilliance.

“I would if I thought it would help, General. But you prefer straight to the point.”

It was true---he did.

“All right,” he sighed, “I assume that you lot won, given the current situation.”

“Our  _ lot _ , as you put it,” she answered with humor dancing in those huge brown eyes, “included you, dear General.”

For some reason the affectionate term hurt him. No one had been affectionate to him since….

“I am sorry,” the princess told him softly. “I am not trying to cause you pain. You really are dear to us.”

A sudden suspicion shot through his head.

“Are you also…..a Jedi?”

“I am,” she responded carefully. “I’m not….reading your mind, General. But your emotions do not have a filter at the moment….”

“Piett left me with you on purpose.”

“I did,” the Admiral said from behind him, and came to set three drinks on the table, before seating himself. “Her highness cares for you as well, and I thought that perhaps a woman…”   
  


The flare of pain at the thought of Myra was still too raw.

He took the whiskey and had a large gulp.

Both Piett and the girl were watching him.

“I’m not a kriffing science experiment,” he growled.

“I know,” the Admiral said, looking so very sad suddenly. “I hate that your memory decided to dump you here. Because I find that I wish I had known you then.”

“ _ Why _ ?” Veers asked, “As you can see….I...am not...all I have….”

The princess reached across the table to put a small hand on his arm.

“That’s precisely why,” she said softly. “We three here, General, we all know profound loss. I wish too that some healing could have been brought sooner, certainly to both of you.”

Piett looked at her with such love, Veers was taken aback. More than just an alliance then--- the Admiral looked at her as though she was his own daughter.

“We’re here now,” Piett commented, taking a drink, “it’s far more than I could have ever asked for.”

And suddenly, for the first time, Veers very much  _ wanted  _ to remember this man and the girl across from him.

She looked at him, resting her chin on her hand. “I wonder if I could speed the healing….”

Piett shook his head. “I asked Henley the same thing, and he felt that it would be best to allow Veers to come out of this on his own.”

She sighed. “All right. Well. This didn’t work. What’s next?”

“The Herd,” Piett said firmly, rising.

“The Herd?” Veers asked, puzzled.

The Admiral grinned up at him.

“ _ Your _ Herd to be precise. You created this. Come with me.”

Veers followed, intrigued, as they left the lounge to enter yet another lift.

“This ship….she’s rather massive,” Veers said and was surprised when a green light suddenly washed over them.

“What was  _ that _ ?”

Piett smiled strangely at the ceiling.

“That, Veers, was the Lady. She likes you quite a lot too.”   
  


_ Wait. As in….? _

Piett was watching him. “I think I don’t want to try and explain that, I’m afraid. But it’s good, I assure you.”

They exited the lift and moved down the corridor, where a great deal more activity was taking place.

They rounded the entry to a massive hangar bay and stored along one wall were….

“Are those….ATATs?” he asked, breathing quickening. He had seen them in production, and had spent countless hours in design and planning meetings. But this….

“They are,” Piett agreed. “This is your Herd, General Veers. Number 5 is your personal walker.”

He moved forward in a dream, looking at each of them. The sheer size of these beasts! They were proudly stored securely with their huge magnetic feet activated and clinging solidly to the deck.

He stopped at 5 and put a hand out to touch the left leg, looking up at the head. 

“And….I have fought campaigns with them?”

“Very successful campaigns,” Piett said quietly. “You are acknowledged as the foremost expert on tactics here.”

“Flattering,” Veers replied, angling a look back at the Admiral who was standing with his hands behind him again, head at a slight angle…..

_ “You know they don’t actually speak with you, correct?” the Admiral was amused. _

_ “They do, actually, Firmus. Just because they don’t use lights and data pads like your Lady….” _

_ “Hmm. I have a hard time believing….” _

_ “Don’t you have a job or something? Something about running a fleet, Admiral?” _

_ “I do and I’m on my way. Just stopped to give you a caf that isn’t mess hall sludge.” _

_ “Hangar bay 12 is on the way to the bridge from your quarters is it, Piett?” _

_ A bright grin and twinkling hazel eyes. _

_ “For me it is.” _

“Your first name….is Firmus,” Veers told him, and the Admiral looked at him sharply.

“Yes. Did you…?”

“Something, I’m not sure. You brought me caf….”

Piett was trying not to look too hopeful he could see.

“I do that occasionally, yes.”

“Why in the galaxy would an _Admiral_ deliver caf?”

Piett looked weary again. “Because….”

“Yes, right, sorry, we’re friends.  _ Sorry _ , Admiral.” He really was---he could see this was weighing the man down. “Surely…..I’m not your  _ only  _ friend?” He didn’t think so from what he’d seen so far.

Piett regarded him for a moment, then cleared his throat. “Currently no, that is not the case, I am happy to say. But there…..was a time that you were. My first and still my best friend.”

_ Really? Piett seemed exactly the sort of person others were drawn to. _

And suddenly it was all too much. Too raw. His grief over Myra and Zev was right there. And this man---doing his best not to pressure him, trying to help him---he was _not_ currently that best friend to Piett. He was a grieving, cold bastard and he didn’t want to hurt the Admiral.

“Look, Admiral, I appreciate all you’ve done. So if this is all going to come back, could you perhaps, allow me to figure it out now?”

Piett was very good, and only the skin tightening around his eyes betrayed any feelings.

“Of course. Ah, here’s a data pad. The Lady can give you the route to your quarters when you are ready.”

He took it. “Thank you.”

Piett nodded and turned as Veers realized he needed to ask one more thing. Because he was crumbling internally and  _ Force _ , he needed to know….

“Admiral.”

The shorter man turned back, an eyebrow raised and something about it was so very familiar…

“Do I…...does this emptiness get better for me? Or will I always be a cold hearted kriffer?”

Great grief passed over the other man’s face and he took a step, reaching out, but recalled himself.

“Max….sorry,  _ General _ .” He paused gathering himself for the right words and Veers almost feared it.

“You will always love Myra. It left a wound. And Zev….” Piett’s eyes were shining suspiciously now but he kept a stiff control. “You are very private about that. But….yes. You heal. You have scars, but you  _ heal _ . I promise you.”

Veers nodded curtly. 

“Thank you.” It eased his soul slightly to know that. He moved underneath the belly of his big beast and distracted himself by examining her workings.

“Safe stars, General,” murmured Piett softly, and strode toward the hangar entrance.

And Veers  _ reeled _ .   
  


_ “I’m Captain Firmus Piett.” He held out his hand and Veers took it slowly…… _

_ “All right Captain, as likely your only friend on this ship….” _

_ “Oh thank you for that,” Piett muttered into his hands….. _

_ The clink of their glasses. “To Myra,” Piett said quietly and Veers nodded, unable to speak….. _

_ “Both or none, Admiral, that’s always how it will be…..” _

Memories were absolutely flooding in, assaulting his brain….

_ “Veers…” a pause and Veers knew that Piett was watching him from his sniper position. “I’m glad I’m doing this with you.” _

_ “Likewise.” _

_ Weary hazel eyes glowing with joy when Veers woke--- “Max. Oh stars...we were all sure….who’s the stubborn bastard now?” _

_ “We don’t need blood to be brothers, Firmus…” _

He staggered and put a hand out to the back leg of Walker 5 to right himself.

He was General Maximilian Veers of the New Republic Forces. This was his Herd, he was with his people on the Lady. And the man walking away was the person he cared most about in the galaxy now….

“Admiral!” he called to that straight retreating back and Piett turned again. 

“My office?”

The Admiral came back to him. “Your code cylinder will still get you in, General. It’s…ooop!.”

Veers did his best not to crush his smaller friend.

“ _ Firmus _ . You…..sometimes I wonder if sainthood should be a thing.”

“ _ Max _ , you….you remember?” the Admiral asked, smiling tentatively at him. “And for kriff’s sake, General, I can’t reach the deck.”

Veers laughed and released Piett, who was flushing furiously, and tugging at his jacket in that well known and well loved habit.

“Sorry. Yes, I remember, you  _ faithful… _ .thank you.”

“Always, Max. You would stick by me if it was reversed. Both or none after all.”

Veers gripped his shoulders and stared into the face of his dearest friend.

“No other way.”


	107. Not part of the job description

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which, Lieutenant Scraps and Admiral Piett have a rather sharp disagreement. It may be good to take a look at the underlying causes.....

Lieutenant Matthew Scraps stared at his computer screen as though that would change anything that he saw there. 

It didn’t.

_ Hi Matt, _

_ Look, I’m sorry, it’s rotten to do it like this and part of me wishes things were different but…. _

_ Mum and Dad were killed last week in a speeder wreck. Janya didn’t even want us to write you, but I…..couldn’t be that heartless. I mean you totally kriffed off and betrayed us, but…. _

_ Look, whatever. I don’t want to draw this out and you don’t need to respond.  _

_ They cut you out years ago, when you joined the Rebellion. They haven’t referred to you since.  _

_ That’s all. I knew you’d want to know. _

_ Katerina _

_ …...sorry _

He switched it off abruptly and stood moving to the viewport in the office he shared with four other security leads for Executor. He was alone at the moment and very grateful.

His parents were gone. No chance to make amends. To wonder if they had ever softened in their stance toward him. 

He wondered if they had ever actually read what he wrote to them in his messages. If they had thought about responding. 

If only they’d had more time. He had felt sure his mother at least would have softened….

Not Dad though. Oh no. No son of his could turn traitor and still be part of the family.

That last conversation before he left would be burned in his memory forever. Words shouted that could not now be undone. 

Even now, his soul was raw when he recalled what his father had flung at him in that exchange.

_ “Weak minded little ingrate!” _

_ “...discovered I fathered a waste of space…” _

_ “Get out. I have no son you damned cowardly traitor…” _

He flinched at the memory, still painful and bloody in its devastation, and then he punched the clear viewport twice, as hard as could, the pain of the contact a balm to his soul.

_Well kriff_ , _that was stupid_ , he thought a moment later. He still had to go over reports, and he would have to try and discreetly treat this himself. 

He went back to the computer, hand throbbing, and switched it back on, scanning through his internal ship messages and flagging things to address in the morning.

Wait. What?   
  


He went back up.

From the Admiral. Personally. He opened it and swiftly read Piett’s message.

And oh _hells_ no.

No. It was Scraps’  _ karking  _ job to look out for one of the most important people in the New Republic (whether he saw himself that way or not) and literally nothing was going to convince him at this point that the man should ever travel anywhere without security.

He took vague notice it was for a memorial of some sort, and Piett was very certain all would be secure and friendly.

And he felt it was something he needed to do alone.

Scraps glanced at the chronometer. He knew the Admiral’s habits well by now, and Piett should still be working. Well.  _ Should be _ was a debatable phrase. He was a workaholic, and though Veers had informed him through a throw away comment once that Piett had been worse a few years back, Scraps felt he was still pushing too hard.

He typed in his security code and accessed the Admiral’s current whereabouts. As he suspected, his office.

A small voice said he should leave this discussion for the morning when he was not so tired, and had time to process ….everything, but Scraps was done with being told what to do. Even by himself apparently. 

He fired off a message to Piett’s computer.

_ Sir, do you have a moment? _

He waited, almost wanting the Admiral to say no….

_ Come on up, Lieutenant. _

All right then.

  
  


*****

Piett knew he should be going to bed. The Lady was sending him strong feelings of disapproval as he finished reports.

“I know,” he sighed at one point, leaning back in his chair and looking up at the ceiling. “I know, Lady, but can you please trust me when I say I wouldn’t sleep anyway? And this keeps me from dwelling too hard….”

She flashed a picture of Lorth Needa up on his computer screen and he flinched. 

“Yes. And I would rather not think about this too closely at the moment….”

She took it off and sent him ….comfort?

“Thank you,” he told her, rubbing at his forehead.

He had received notice several days previously that Needa’s family had at last decided to hold a memorial for him, now that they wouldn’t be arrested for doing so under a vindictive Empire. Piett himself had fought for Needa’s record to be changed-- from being marked executed in shame to having been killed in the line of duty.

And wasn’t  _ that  _ a way of putting it. 

His princess had been a great help, working with the New Republic and tracking down his relatives to let them know what had been done so that the memory of a good man could be untarnished.

And now at last, Needa would be honored for the noble captain he was. Piett had not known him well, but he had been the last person to speak with Needa before Vader….

He had made himself look at the hapless Captain with pity one last time as he started choking, before turning away and ensuring none of his men did anything so kriff stupid as watch the execution with horror stricken eyes.

“Damn it,” Piett muttered to himself, resting his elbows on his desk and dropping his head in his hands. 

His Lordship had been conspicuously absent, and Piett knew this was not an accident. This was one of several topics between them that would always be raw even if they had both moved on. 

A part of Piett would always grieve this. A part of Anakin Skywalker did too, and so they gave each other space on the anniversary of Needa’s death. 

Piett was going to the memorial. Had been asked to say a few words, and he had no krffing clue what to say. He was so rubbish with that.

A message popped up:

_ Sir, do you have a moment? _

Scraps. Piett considered this and looked at the chronometer. The boy was up quite late as well. And he knew his Admiral’s habits…..

_ Come on up, Lieutenant. _

He was likely going to regret this as he could guess what it was about. And Piett was so very tired already. 

But Matthew deserved his time and to make his case.

In short order, his door chimed.

“Lady?” asked Piett, stacking his flimsies neatly and rising as the doors hissed open to admit his security lead. 

“Come in Lieutenant. Can I get you something to drink? You’re up quite late.”   
  


“Thank you sir, no. And I could say the same of you, sir.”

“Yes, but this is normal for me, we both know that. Why are you up so late?”

His officer hesitated slightly, and Piett noticed that Scraps looked rather haggard.

“A lot to catch up on sir, after the last mission.”

That was not the real reason, but Piett didn’t press him. 

“Well then, Lieutenant, I don’t want to keep you from your well deserved bed. What can I do for you?”

“Sir, you can have a security team join you on this trip.”

A beat.

_ So he had been correct then. And Scraps was going right to the point. _

“Scraps,” he said calmly, “it is an exceedingly secure location. And it’s a memorial as I explained. I would very much appreciate going on my own.”

The Lieutenant took a visible breath to steady himself, and Piett realized that they were about to do battle. There was a look in the boy’s eye…..

“Sir. I understand that. But Commander Fox has been very clear and I cannot allow you to do that.”

“ ‘Cannot allow’ the Fleet Admiral to do something, Lieutenant Scraps?” Piett permitted himself to be rather starchy in his tone. 

Scraps’ jaw tightened. “Sir, I mean no disrespect, but letting you take a shuttle on your own for two days? No, I can’t do that, sir.”

“I think you will find you  _ can _ , Scraps.”   
  


And the younger man actually clenched his hands for a moment, then winced, but before Piett had a chance to ask….

“Admiral. I don’t want to make this bigger than it needs to be, sir. But I value you too much to let this slide. And if you won’t trust me, then I’ll have to take it up with Commander Fox, sir.”

_ This was Lorth Needa. This was private. It was hard. And Piett did not need several young officers along, however much he liked them, when he was coping with such grief. _ _  
  
_

His eyes flashed slightly. “And I will override you both. Not this time, Lieutenant.”

“ _Yes_ , this time, sir! We won’t be ‘hovering’ of course, but, sir, you need….”

“What I  _ need _ , Scraps is to be treated like a Force damned  _ adult _ , fully capable of defending himself!”

“No one is saying you aren’t, Admiral! I know that, kriff, I’ve seen you in action enough times. But I am not taking chances with your life sir! Don’t ask me too!”

“And there are times,  _ Lieutenant _ , where I need privacy!” Piett snapped. “This is one of them, and I should not have to defend myself to a kid….”

“And if you are attacked sir? If your shuttle is intercepted? Or someone attempts something at the memorial?”

“You…!” Piett whirled away before he said something he knew he would regret. 

He placed his hands on his desk and took a breath.

“Am I allowed no solitude, Lieutenant? I must mourn with all of you watching?”

“Sir….” Scraps’ young voice was pained. “It’s….we’ll be in your lamda, of course we’ll give you space…”

Piett slammed a palm on his desk and turned. 

“That’s not the point and you know it!”

And he watched the moment Scraps tipped over the line.

“Kriffing hells, sir, you are so  _ damned  _ stubborn!! I’m  _ sorry _ ! I wish you didn’t feel that way because we aren’t some gawking random troopers sir! We’re  _ yours _ ! And you  _ matter _ to us! Leave the whole Force damn ship out of it---”

Piett felt the Lady’s indignation.

“---and your crew care too by the way, but just try for one second to see how  _ we  _ might feel if we lost you!”

“It’s not on  _ you _ !” Piett shouted back, and he knew he shouldn’t be doing this. That he should coldly inform Scraps he was out of line and tell him to leave. To get out. But he couldn't. Not with a boy who had taken a blaster bolt for him. Who was looking at him even now as though Piett had far more importance than he really did.

“It is not on you, Scraps, because responsibility on this ship rests with  _ me _ . It ends on  _ my  _ shoulders, Lieutenant, and I am going to the memorial of a man who understood that, and acted on it with selfless courage. I will do no  _ less _ !!”

Scraps was slightly red in the face, and his eyes were filling, whether with tears of rage or something else, Piett was not certain. 

“You have  _ never  _ done less, Admiral! Never! So I am asking you  _ please _ , to let me do  _ my  _ kriffing job and do not prevent me from doing less! I will not lose you too, sir! I  _ refuse _ ! You are all I...all I…” He stopped, giving a valiant attempt at holding back his emotion, and Piett was able to focus on something in that tirade….

“What did you mean ‘lose me too’ Scraps?”

“Nothing, sir. Just…” but his throat worked and Piett knew there had to be something else.

“What’s happened, Lieutenant?”

Scraps pressed his lips together, and clearly didn’t trust himself to speak. Instead he stabbed savagely at his datapad, and thrust it toward Piett, who took it and glanced at the few lines there.

Piett set it down and closed his eyes briefly. 

_ What a kriffed up universe. _

He breathed out, all fight leaving his body. 

“Scraps, I’m so very sorry. Come over here.”

He sank onto his sofa and watched the tense back of the younger man, hands clenched behind him, but then he flinched again at the action.

“That’s an order, Lieutenant, come here.”

And the boy turned, tears overflowing now, to come and sit. Piett reached for the hand he was reasonably sure…..yes. He rose and retrieved the medkit from the panel behind his desk and returned to the sofa, opening it and finding the antiseptic wipes first to deal with the split knuckles.

He felt carefully for any damaged bones, and was relieved that it was just bruising, though he was sure it was painful. Both of them were silent as Piett placed bacta bandages, and then firmly wound regular bandage around his hand to keep it in place. He shut the medkit and pushed it aside before reaching up to draw the young man’s head down gently to his shoulder. 

“Matthew…”

And a sob racked the much bigger frame of his security lead. So Piett anchored him in the storm. When he was reasonably sure Scraps had released what he needed to, he spoke again. 

“We’re a bit of a pair here, aren’t we, Scraps?” he said quietly. “Both so very determined to protect the people we care about and taking it very badly if we cannot. I am very….honored by your desire to keep me safe. I do understand. We will come back to that.”

He paused and considered what he was about to say. It was speculation, but Piett was rather certain he was right. And….what he was about to say was also going to change things going forward. He was all right with that, Piett decided. He would have given much in similar circumstances to hear any sort of encouragement at this age….

“Obviously I did not know your parents, Matthew. I am so very sorry that you did not have an opportunity to attempt to rebuild there. I am aware  _ you _ tried. Was there ever a return….?””

The red head shook on his shoulder. 

Piett suppressed his anger. “Then I will tell you directly, they were blind fools to push you away. I know this for a fact. Because a son like you, a man who stands on his morals firmly enough that he must act on them, even in the certainty of his loved ones spurning him,  _ that  _ is a son to be proud of. And if they were ashamed of you for turning against a corrupt and bloated Empire,  _ that  _ is on their shoulders, not yours. Do you hear me, Scraps?”

“Yes, sir,” into his shoulder. 

Piett tightened the arms he had around the boy. “For what it’s worth, Matthew, I’m so very proud of the man you have become.”   
  


A sniff and at last Scraps raised his head, sitting up so he could look Piett in the eye. 

  
“That….right there, sir. That is why I would happily step in front of a blaster for you. It is worth a great deal.  _ You  _ are worth a great deal, sir, I don’t know if you understand just what you have been….”

His heart was in his eyes, and Piett held his gaze steadily. “Yes, I do. It’s rather humbling. Thank you, Scraps.”

There was a beat.

“Sir….I do know you hate being seen as though you can’t handle yourself. Please believe me when I say that utterly no one thinks that, Admiral. But sir, you have put yourself between all of us and a threat so many times. Isn’t it only fair that we are given the opportunity to do the same?”

Piett considered him. 

“Yes,” he murmured, “it’s fair. There are just times, Scraps….where I would appreciate….”

_ Not having someone be able to access his location 24/7. To feel as though he wasn’t being scrutinized, however well meaning... _

“Sir,” said the lieutenant, tentatively, “I  _ do _ know. I know  _ you  _ now. And I don’t envy you how hard your job is, including dealing with …..this. So. This trip.”

Piett stiffened slightly, bracing himself. 

“What if…..what if it was just me? Can we compromise on that, sir?”

He was so very earnest and sincere in his desire to both respect his Admiral’s wishes, and keep him safe. Piett could meet him halfway—this abandoned kid who was placing something else on his Admiral’s shoulders, a status he wasn’t sure he deserved, and Piett was still dealing with  _ that _ humbling responsibility.

He raised his eyebrows and Piett smiled at him. 

“All right, I can do that, Matthew. Thank you.”

He rose and the boy joined him. 

“Thank you, sir. For….everything. I’ll um, I’ll understand if you need to log a reprimand in my file sir for my disrespect….”

Piett snorted. “I’d have to put one in mine as well, Lieutenant.”

Scraps gave him a tentative smile.

Piett wondered how his parents could cast that aside, and felt a fierce swell of proprietary affection. 

This was his lieutenant, and the Admiral would make sure he never felt alone.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have loved the way that some of my characters just seem to grow and develop on their own. I just sit back and watch. This was the case with Scraps who went from random character I needed in a one shot, to VERY IMPORTANT PERSON for our Admiral. Didn't see that coming and it's been quite rewarding for me to explore how these two interact and the way Scraps is growing as a person. Heck, he's helping Piett see some things as well, so hurrah! Guess that means he needs to be part of the next Stubbornness Support Group meeting...;D


	108. Stubborness Support Group III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Every once in a while some of the more junior officers need to share their stress with each other. What do they do with Fox though?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had fun including Scraps in the group since Venka got promoted and is no longer on the Lady. Antilles got to come too because flying with Luke Skywalker is not easy on the nerves. xD
> 
> At last, I managed something lighter. ;D I do hope you all enjoy!

Fox looked up from his datapad as Scraps entered the officer’s lounge and after a brief scan, made a beeline for the table across from the Commander’s own. He inclined his head to his superior officer as he got closer, and Fox appreciated the boy’s astute observation that he did not wish to be disturbed. 

He nodded back and gave a swift look to the table Scraps joined. Captain Kelly and Lieutenant Ellery were already present.

“You have the look of a man who needs a double whiskey,” commented Ellery with a grin and leaned around Kelly to summon a server droid.

Scraps looked a little uncertain. “Well….I don’t know that I’ve had a double before.”

Kelly snorted. “Then it’s high time you did, Lieutenant. _Stars_ , how have you been on board this long and not had one? How long have you been the Admiral’s lead now?”

“Six months,” Scraps said with a sigh.

“So a lifetime then,” Kelly nodded. “And I mean that in the best way possible." 

The young lieutenant grinned at him. “I get it. I simultaneously respect him, care about him and want to lock him in his office sometimes. Those things can go together right?”

“They absolutely do,” Ellery answered, retrieving the tumbler and shoving it over to Scraps.

“Ah,” said Kelly, hailing one more person.

Fox watched Antilles slap everyone on the shoulder before seating himself. 

“Have we started the official moan yet?” asked the Captain, turning to place his order with the hovering droid.

“There’s an official start?” Scraps asked, taking a careful mouthful of the whiskey and squinting slightly. Ellery chuckled.

“I forgot this is only your second time. Yeah, it’s sort of official/unofficial. We all list the most recent issue to decide who gets to moan first.”

“So then,” Antilles said looking at Kelly. “You’re senior. Lay it out.”

Antilles snagged some nuts from the bowl in the middle and popped them in his mouth, listening with interest.

Kelly sighed and leaned back in his chair.

“Lord Vader and the Admiral on the bridge at the same time---both keenly interested in the speed with which the Lady can make a 90 degree turn at a 15 degree angle with Baldwin’s latest upgrades. First time for my crew to execute that move.”

“Terrifying,” came a low voice nearby and they all looked around, but Commander Fox was the closest person and he was reading a datapad calmly at the next table.

Ellery shrugged.

“Yeah I can just feel the intensity of those two together,” Antilles admitted. “All right, me next. Commander Skywalker declaring he can get ‘just a little closer’ while engaging ground artillery in a heavily forested area.”

Scraps winced. “This is in your X-Wings correct, Captain? Because frankly anytime Commander Skywalker says something like that, I get a bad feeling in my stomach.”’

“There are medications to take when working with Skywalkers.”

Again this was quietly said, almost under the breath, and the group at the table all looked at each other. 

Scraps was reasonably sure those utterly dry tones were his commanding officer’s, but as Fox had yet to lift his eyes from the datapad, he was also sure that the clone was not interested in actually joining their table. 

Kelly raised his eyebrows at him and Scraps gave a slight shrug. 

_Just go with it._

Ellery smiled and took a quick drink. “All right. The General personally testing the mag boots we’re looking into for troopers so they can ride on top of the AT-ATs on maneuvers.”

Kelly’s eyes widened. “ _Where_ did this test take place, Lieutenant?”

“Oh on the Lady, but that fall to the deck……”

All of them winced pondering this.

Then….

“Well Force _damn_ it, General, we’re going to have to chat.”

Scraps was starting to enjoy these quiet asides, strange as it was to have Fox both part and not part of the conversation. 

“All right, Scraps you’re up,” said Antilles cheerfully, with a very quick glance at the Commander who was, for all intents and purposes, reading quietly with his pint at his elbow. 

Of course, having his direct superior listening to their little session had him wondering if he should say anything. On the other hand, he sort of seemed to be….part of it? And it wasn’t as though any of them were seriously upset with their commanding officers. They just needed to express the insanity of their lives.

“Currently, the Admiral’s training sessions with the General involve free climbing----specifically working in scenarios where they are likely being shot at. About five decks high.”

“Yikes,” commented Antilles.

And from the side….

“I don’t know whether to be impressed at the planning, or despairing that they think it will be necessary.”

Ellery coughed on his drink at this, and Antilles patted him soundly on the back. 

“The problem is,” the big man said, once he had recovered, “is that it probably will be necessary with our senior officers.”

“All right, which of us gets to go first then?” asked Kelly, looking around the table.

“Antilles,” murmured from the side.

Scraps couldn’t stop his mouth from trembling into a smile.

They looked at each other.

“So,” the X-Wing Captain said, “I’ll start then. Yes, we were in our ships and providing support to the local planetary forces fighting these insurgents. It was some pretty heavy ground artillery and they had terrific cover due to these big forests. Not quite Endor level, but close.”

“Endor level?” asked Kelly interestedly.

“Oh right. You never went down.”

“No, I was in sickbay on the Lady at that point.”

Antilles nodded. “Massive forests there. Full of tiny kriffing tree bears. That’s for another time. Anyway, we sure as hell weren’t flying X-Wings down _there_ , because most of us aren’t suicidal. But Luke _Jedi_ Skywalker was determined to take out three guns which were placed really well.”

“Tell me he didn’t attempt to fly through the trees,” breathed Scraps.

“Oh he didn’t attempt,” said Antilles, taking a large drink. “He just did it. Did you know droids can swear fluently? Found out that Artoo has an impressive range really, given that it’s binary. J nearly shorted out translating.”

J was Antilles' droid.

“J nearly shorts out for any number of reasons,” Kelly pointed out. “But still….”

“Kaysh mirsh solus,” muttered Fox to the side. 

Scraps, who was gaining more understanding of Mando’a coughed violently at this casual declaration regarding the hero of the Rebellion.

He didn’t dare look at his commander’s table. 

“What…?” Ellery started to ask, but Scraps shook his head furiously. “Who’s next?” he wheezed.

“I think it’s between Captain Kelly and yourself, Lieutenant,” Antilles declared.

“Scraps,” came the murmur from the side. 

No one was questioning this now.

“So,” the young lieutenant began, “The General is abundantly creative when it comes to training for the two of them. And I can’t deny it’s paid off in numerous ways. I mean, you’ve all seen the Admiral’s hand to hand, and if I was to pick someone to have by my side in a physical fight, he’d be at the top of the list. 

“Except that you need to protect him….” put in Ellery.

“Exactly,” Scraps nodded. “We’re working on what that looks like in practice. But that’s beside this point. I want you to picture me, waiting in there as they train (because the Admiral doesn’t want the other detail members watching that) trying to finish reports and not _look_ like I’m watching. But the thing is--it’s fine when they spar. I know he can take that and it’s the General---he knows how to stop follow through.”

“Well,” said Ellery, “that time two weeks ago….”

“Okay,” Scraps amended, “ _normally_ he can stop it. And it’s not as though the Admiral hasn’t damaged Veers before too….”

Antilles chuckled. “Sorry,” he said in reply to the raised eyebrows of the former Imperials at the table. “I just….finding out that your two most senior officers stay in shape by working on beating the snot out of each other….It’s not exactly the picture we had of them during the war.”

Ellery exchanged a look with Kelly. 

“Not all of our officers were Tarkins and Ozzels,” he said to the former Rebels.

Antilles put his hands in the air. “I know, no disrespect meant. I’m exceedingly glad to know the calibre of men I’m working with.”

“ _Anyway_ ,” Scraps continued, determined that they understand his stress. “I am pretending to be completely at ease with this workout---once again being done in uniform, mind you--- when I look up just in time to see Admiral Piett launch himself _with no cable support_ at the handhold above him.”

Kelly drew in a sharp breath, and then took a large drink.

Scraps joined him, clearly shaken by the memory. 

“Obviously he made it,” prompted Antilles.

“Yes,” the young lieutenant replied, “and I continue to be in awe at our senior officers, and what they can do. I _also_ have new things to stress about, because Force damn it, what if they _fall_?”

“The Lady,” muttered Fox very softly and Scraps tucked _that_ away to ask his Admiral later. 

They all took a drink in salute to this. 

“Well, I would say that perhaps Kelly is next, but this segways rather nicely into my story,” Ellery put in and they all pretended not to hear the ‘I need to hear this too’ from the head of Veers’ security detail.

“By all means, Ellery,” Kelly said, “I’m still recovering from Scraps’ story myself.” He signaled the server droid for another round. 

“Well, we all know that one of the reasons the General and the Admiral get on so well, is that they both have this drive to see to crucial things themselves. This is particularly true for their key means of doing battle.”

“The Lady,” said Scraps in tandem with Kelly saying “The Herd.”

Ellery nodded. 

“I believe it was Commander Appo’s idea to have troops in mag boots on the walkers. It’s….”

“Insane,” prompted Antilles.

The big man grinned. “It is that, but you know how Appo and Dogma are. And an ARC trooper on an ATAT, well….”

“That is _terrifying_ to ponder,” Kelly said immediately.

“ _Obviously_ why it appeals to the General,” came the dry tones from the other table.

They risked a look. Fox was drinking his beer and reading on.

All right then.

“So I was just getting ready for the regular inspection,” continued Ellery, “and noticed our men staring like a bunch of gormless nerfs up at the ceiling. Or so I thought.”

He sighed and shook his head. 

“Instead it was at the General, standing like a Krayt rider on the top of his walker and demanding that it begin moving across the bay.”

“What did you do?” asked Scraps curiously.

“Asked him if he wanted to start the drills, in an attempt to divert him.”

A snort of derision nearby.

“And?” prompted Kelly.

“Oh, he agreed and ordered his walker to the other end of the bay, to begin drills there. I can’t deny it was impressive. The amount of hero worship he has going on….” Ellery shook his head. “The thing is….it’s the General. He doesn’t do grandstanding. He genuinely wants to try it for himself because if his men are doing it, he should know what he’s asking.”

Scraps clapped him on the back. “I feel your pain,” he said. “All right, Captain, most dramatic for last.”

“You can say that again,” Kelly chuckled.

“Has the galaxy known a time General Skywalker _wasn’t_ dramatic?” came softly from the side.

Antilles choked on his drink and Kelly waited courteously to make sure he didn’t die.

“Carry on,” the pilot gasped eventually.

“So we all know that the Admiral is particularly skilled at...ah...managing Lord Vader, when it comes to the Lady’s operations,” Kelly began. “And once everyone was clear that there would be no more Force incidents on the bridge for crew actions…”

“Force incidents,” said a contemptuous voice, “Sith temper tantrums….”

Kelly very nearly broke, looking at Fox and opening his mouth, but Ellery kicked his ankle under the table. 

“Ahem, ah, yes the Admiral was able to relax marginally. And that has of course become more notable the last few years as we’ve all seen the regard our senior leadership has for one another.”

They all nodded and clicked glasses.

“The problematic side of this is that we have all discovered that the Admiral, while still the more rational one when it comes to ships, is quite keen when it comes to seeing what the Lady can accomplish. He is more easily manipulated into less _advisable_ actions.”

Scraps sighed into his glass.

“I mean,” said Antilles tentatively, “it worked rather well didn’t it?”  
  


“Yes,” said Kelly in an exceedingly put upon tone, “but the stress levels on the bridge were off the charts. And I had five rookies that day. _Five_ _!_ When I suggested that perhaps we wait to test such a maneuver further away from the fleet, they both turned their heads to look at me in tandem and I cannot tell you the chills I had from the double battery of that _look_ . I’m still trying to decide what’s worse---the Admiral’s eyebrow lift, or Lord Vader’s _grin_.”

“ ‘Captain Kelly’ Lord Vader said, ‘as you are clearly nervous, I will pilot personally.’”

This achieved stunned silence around the table.

“You didn’t mention that part earlier,” Scraps breathed. “I absolutely would have had you go first.”

Kelly shrugged. “He did it flawlessly of course. Though even the Admiral hadn’t expected him to _pilot_ , judging from how tight his jaw got. Think he realized he was in over his head at that point.”   
  


“Story of all our lives,” was muttered at the other table.

They all looked at each other for a moment.

“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” declared Ellery, raising his glass.

“Here here!” they all replied and raised theirs as well.

“Ijaat,” was said softly and Scraps smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kaysh mirsh solus--he's an idiot
> 
> Ijaat--Mando'a for honor
> 
> Shout out once again to the work Libero Per Fidem for the phrase 'tiny kriffing tree bears'. I just adore it so much and love using it where I can. :)


	109. What Doesn't Kill You....

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke and Anakin face an unpleasant situation together where Anakin is left helpless and Luke confronts his anger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is for thousandsmiles who requested an angry Luke fic. This was very difficult (sunshine child!! xD) and I needed to be in the right mode for it. I think I found the angst levels I was looking for.   
> Thanks so much for the prompt thousandsmiles and I hope you enjoy!

Luke felt it before he saw it.

His Father’s pain.

At a level he had not sensed since…..

….since the Death Star.

_ Father _ ! He sent over their link.

_ Luke… _ .

He used the Force to shove at the creature charging at him. The height of a rancor, but with the speed and pack instincts of a Loth wolf, the creature screamed at him.

_ Force _ they were strong.

He leapt for his Father, landing neatly at his side expecting to see blood or exposed wires ripped by the animal’s hook like claws.

Instead….

Instead his Father was caught in some sort of ….trap? And it was sending electric jolts through his body.

_ No wonder Luke had been reminded of the Death Star. _

_ Blinking the sweat and tears from his eyes.  _

_ Barely able to think---only able to see that his Father had killed the Emperor. _

_ Then his collapse---the smell of burned circuitry and the awful labored breaths from the damaged respirator. _

“Luke,” Anakin managed, and Luke could not think of a time on the battlefield where his Father had looked so  _ helpless _ .

“Turn off the traps!” he shouted at the panicking colonists they were here to help.

And oddly, people were pausing to watch as Anakin Skywalker convulsed again in helpless agony.

He felt a strange sense from them...

“Turn it off!” He insisted, reaching in the Force to find the power source for these traps. 

A man stepped forward.

“No,” he said.

“The creatures are far enough!” Luke called.  _ Why wouldn’t they help him?  _ “Just a quick on and off.”

The man  _ smiled  _ as he watched Luke’s Father moan.

“We know how to do it, Luke Skywalker. We don’t want to. We have achieved what we wished.”

“You….”

Understanding swept over him. These people had built these traps and they were effective against the creatures. They had not actually needed the Skywalkers. They had been brought here….for this?

His Father’s limbs would be damaged. The burns to his body where they connected….

“Turn it off!” he commanded, rising and facing the assembled crowd, trying not to flinch as their collective hatred and bitterness swept over him. 

“No.” It was a woman this time, stepping forward. Her face was badly disfigured by burns.

“Darth Vader can feel what he did to us. What he did to half this planet when he came through on his murdering rampage in the name of the Empire. And for what? Because someone, somewhere said we were harboring a Rebel spy.”

Luke felt something hot and white building in his chest and he fought against it. 

“And he is trying to atone. Turn. It. Off.”

There. He could feel the source.

“I lost my son that day, Luke Skywalker. And this happened to me.” She gestured to her face. “He was six, Jedi.  _ Six _ .” She turned to glare at Anakin, panting in his misery, both physical and mental. For Luke had felt the anguish spear his Father when the woman spoke of her little boy.

“Did he deserve to be consumed in the flames from your ships  _ Vader _ ? Had he offended your O so  _ glorious  _ Empire so much to deserve a fate like that?”

Luke reached in the Force and the power died. Anakin slumped to the ground, smoke rising from his clothing, and the smell of burned flesh assaulting Luke’s senses.

_ Father… _ .

_ Here….they...are...right. _

“No…” Anakin managed aloud. “No...and I cannot even …..say I’m….sorry. Not….enough…”

“No. It’s not. What did you care how many small children you killed in your thirst for power?”

Anakin reeled in the Force, and Luke was suddenly hit with images as the power of his Father’s grief overwhelmed him.

He pushed back, erecting his shields. It was too much.  _ Too hard _ . How did his Father bear it?

He moved to kneel by his Father, moving the cables and freeing his Father’s limbs. He was correct---Anakin’s prosthetics had been badly damaged and his Father was as close to helpless as Luke had ever seen him.

Something fierce and protective rose in his chest.

“Perhaps we’ll make your son watch you die, Vader,” spat another man and the crowd moved closer.

In the distance the creatures screamed.   


Luke rose, his green blade igniting in his hand.

_ No… _ . His Father said in his mind.  _ Luke… _ .

But the call of his rage was potent. 

“Yes, he’s guilty of what you say!” Luke snarled. “But what makes you any better, doing this?  _ Enjoying  _ his suffering? What does that make  _ you _ ?”

Some of the crowd looked abashed. Others met his anger.

“You think I care for your moral pontificating, Skywalker?” sneered the first man. “I will absolutely enjoy it! Maybe we should let him watch you die.”

“You’re welcome to try,” Luke smiled, adjusting his stance as he felt his Father….contacting someone? Leia? Piett? Possibly both.

“No,” said the scarred woman, putting her hand on the arm of the man, and the crowd stopped their advance. “We don’t kill the children for the fathers. I do draw that line.”

“Oh glad to hear you have a line,” Luke said, feeling his control slipping toward a red mist. “We came here in good faith, you backstabbing  _ bastards _ , to  _ help  _ you! And this is how you repay that! Come at me then. Come at me you brave and daring vengeance seekers.”

The crowd shifted uneasily as he took his stand in front of his Father’s fallen form.

“We don’t have a quarrel with you, Skywalker….”

“You have a quarrel with my FATHER. And  _ you  _ may be the sort of scum found in a latrine trench, which can stand by and watch your Father be tortured and murdered horribly, but I am not!”

“How can you bear to carry his blood?” spat an old woman in the crowd. “How can you bear it? Child of genocide? Spawn of the scourge of the galaxy?”

“Because he has CHANGED!” Luke roared. “Because he is trying to do the impossible, and right the awful wrongs he committed! He cannot change those--- it is true. But he is  _ trying  _ nonetheless. It is an impossible, THANKLESS task and I would be CRUSHED by it! But he strives every day, every minute to ATONE!”

He realized that the crowd were gaping…. _ up _ at him?   
  


He was hovering above them---the Force burning and snapping around him in golden sparks. His blade handle was hot in his hand and his heart was burning in his chest.

“And you--- you superior beings---you would murder him in cold blood and possibly send me to join him.”

He sensed three of the creatures streaking across the open fields toward them, but his surging powers gave him the most supreme confidence. 

The people were barely turning to run when he flung out a hand and sent the creatures high into the air, then threw them out of sight over the horizon. They would most certainly be killed in that fall.

And it was quiet. The crowd stared at him in abject fear and awe.

_ Luke….Luke, let go of your anger. _

His Father. Pleading with him. Who knew where this rage could lead.

He lowered himself to the ground and moved to kneel by his Father once more, resting his black glove on Anakin’s bald head.

  
  
“My son…..”

“Father, is help coming?”

“Yes. Luke---their anger is just.”

“Their actions are not!”   
  


He looked up, feeling another person approach. The scarred woman. He realized at this point the grass all around them was flattened as though some massive force like a space ship had depressed the ground.

_ Oh _ .

Oh, he had done that.

“Just….” the woman began and Luke ignited the lightsaber once more, holding it between them.

“I do not wish to harm you,” he told her. “But come at my Father, and you leave me no choice.”

“No,” she said, staring at Anakin’s scarred face and she unconsciously touched her own cheek. “Just go.”

Luke moved his hand to Anakin’s chest, feeling his heart beating too rapidly.

“We will. Tell your people to leave. We will await our ship.”

“Wait,” Anakin croaked.

The woman turned and tears were forming in her furious eyes.

“I….I  _ am  _ sorry. I am so sorry. I know what it is to lose my heart and my soul. I….” tears spilled from the blue eyes and over his ruined face. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

The woman stared at him, then nodded and left without speaking.

Luke sensed the lamda approaching as the crowd dispersed back to their settlement. To his huge relief, his sister was running down the ramp before it had finished opening.

“Father called to us…..are you all right?” she asked, running her eyes over him swiftly and moving to Anakin.

“I’m fine. But he needs….”

“I see.”   
  


“Henley?” Luke asked, but was slightly surprised to see the slight form of the Admiral joining them.

“Lord Vader specifically requested that it only be her highness and myself. The Doctor will meet us in your Father’s private hangar bay.”

Piett’s calm efficiency was precisely what was needed in the moment, as were his sister’s abilities. 

“Don’t want….crew to see… this…” Anakin panted as Luke used the Force to lift him and bring him on board the lamda to settle him on the bunk Leia had lowered from the bulkhead.

Luke understood. Only the people his Father trusted most were here for him at his most helpless.

Piett and Leia were a smooth team---the Admiral handing her blankets and opening a water bottle before he knelt at his commander’s side to help him drink.

“Skywalker,” he said, without looking away from the head resting on his arm, “there is a tool kit in the bulkhead near the last seat, if you could…”

Luke found it quickly and returned. 

Piett rose to give Luke his place. “I will return us to the Lady with all speed, my Lord,” he said and Anakin managed a slight smile as Leia applied a hypo with pain killers.

“Not  _ all  _ speed…..Piett. I am not…..flying after….all.” 

The Admiral snorted and Luke felt his Father relax more at that familiar sound.

“True. An important distinction to be made right now to be sure, my Lord.”

“ _Cheek_ …..Admiral,” his Father said without heat, closing his eyes. 

Piett gave Luke a reassuring smile and left for the cockpit.

“Father….” Leia said, “May I….?”

“Please,” Anakin responded, opening his eyes to meet her warm brown ones. “Thank you, my daughter.” 

She patted his shoulder and threw a glance to Luke.

“I’ll do the biological, you do the mechanical then?” she asked.

He grinned. “Sure.”

They worked quietly for a moment.

“I felt your anger,” Leia said, focusing intently on what she was doing for Anakin’s heart. 

Luke paused in pulling out a blackened wire in his Father’s forearm.

“I…..”   
  


“You don’t have to explain,” his sister continued. “I do understand. And… you controlled it, Luke. Because  _ Stars  _ it was potent.”

“You are both….so powerful…” their Father murmured. “Proud of you….”

Luke and Leia shared identical smiles over Anakin before getting back to work.

Their family was complicated, Luke reflected, delicately maneuvering a circuit with the Force. All of them broken and patched back together with varying degrees of success.

And they were stronger for it.

  
  



	110. The Final Order

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An assassin is sent to kill Darth Vader.

She moved slowly and smoothly through the vents. It was a challenge, even for her, to move through the massive ship. Once, a number of years ago now, she had been aboard the Lady. It had been difficult even then to mask her presence from this unusual ship. 

Now…..

Now she understood more about the Super Star Destroyer. 

Mara was nothing if not thorough in her research when it came to her targets. And this ship…..Mara was reasonably certain she was sentient. It was the only explanation for certain things she had come across. 

She was also certain, that if she was correct (and Mara was rarely wrong) that her Senior commanding officers were protecting this knowledge fairly closely. 

Understandable really. She would likely do the same. Always good to have hidden assets at all times. 

She paused once more, controlled her breathing and reached for the presence she was aiming for. It was….different than before, but then he had changed. Significantly. She recognized many things in his Force presence, but there were many aspects that were….well, she wasn’t sure how to describe them. 

Regardless, she had one final mission to complete and perhaps then the voice of her now dead Master would be out of her head.

YOU WILL KILL DARTH VADER.

She closed her eyes and bowed her head to gently touch the cool metal of the vent shaft. That final cry---so  _ FULL  _ of rage and betrayal. She had staggered under the assault as she was boarding her ship on Tatooine, frustrated that she had failed to capture the son there.

_ Damn astromech droids should all be scrapped. All of them. _

And the younger Skywalker….Mara growled softly to herself even now. He had been just as skilled in masking his presence until he was already in the midst of Jabba’s court. Of course he could kill a rancor. Mara had been one of the few who knew that he wasn’t going to die down there. She had felt the princess’s anguish and fear, but Mara had scoffed internally. 

He was a Skywalker. And---something people forgot continually---the son of Padme’ Amidala. How often had his mother escaped impossible situations as well? 

Tragically ironic then, that she was killed at the hands of her secret husband. 

Mara shoved these unnecessary reflections aside. For kriff’s sake, what was she? A sentimental Twi’lek?

She was almost there now, working hard to shield her presence both from the ship and from Skywalker. 

He was with his Admiral in the conference room. And that was just too bad for Piett then wasn’t it? Traitorous bastard that he was. She would enjoy striking him down as well, for he and this ship had played a rather large role in the death of the Emperor too. 

_ You kill innocents now as well, Mara? _

And what was  _ that _ ? She hadn’t had a conscience for years now. It was true that she did not care to kill any more than she had to. She was a precise and deadly weapon. Not a rough club. She was directed at her targets and she took them out quickly and efficiently. It was why Palpatine valued her. 

And Piett was no innocent. Admiral of Death Squadron? Vader’s second in command? By all accounts, practically adopted into the Skywalker family?

_ But you weren’t tasked to kill him….. _

Mara moved the last foot forward so she could see through the slats of the vent. She could physically feel the ship looking for her---it sensed that something wasn’t right, she was sure of it. Mara would need to be swift then. She had disabled both the security sensors and the secondary systems that the ship itself was somehow…..connected to? She made it appear as though they were still intact.

And there…..

The Admiral was seated on one of the sofas, jacket off and clearly comfortable with his commander. A mug of something was in his hand and no blaster in sight. 

Too trusting by far.

The black clad back of the other was to her, but Mara was done with scoping the situation---time to act. 

She dropped through the vent, blade already humming as she spun with all the fluid grace of a dancer to decapitate Skywalker. 

Except…..he had dropped to the floor and rolled with impossibly fast reflexes, coming to his feet with his green blade meeting hers in a cascade of sparks.

What.

She had one half second of stunned shock because this was not Anakin. It was his son.

And Luke lunged at her in that half second, forcing Mara to flip backwards as he pursued his attack. 

_ How? _ And she realized that the strangeness of the Force signature was not because Vader had changed. It was because it was Luke’s.

She snarled in rage and flung her hand out at him, shoving at the young Jedi. 

A tremble in her perceptions and  _ no… _ ..

Piett had been remarkably quick on the uptake for a non Force sensitive, reaching a hidden weapons compartment, and was now bringing his blaster to bear on her.

She knew he was a good shot--one of the best, she gave him begrudgingly, and so didn’t take any chances, reaching in the Force to seize him.

He glared at her furiously when he found he couldn’t move, and then she tossed him across the room to skid over the big conference table and tumble to the floor on the other side. 

Then she was back at it with Luke, and never in her  _ life  _ had she had to move so fast, parrying his strokes and lunges. 

When had she ever faced a trained Jedi though? She had faced partially trained ones. She had faced both incredibly skilled assassins and pathetic whimpering targets who had no skills whatsoever. 

She was impressed.

He pressed his blade against hers, locking the lightsabers together in crackling death.

“Who are you?” he panted, and his eyes were so very blue.

“Not your concern,” she snarled back. “Where’s your kriffing Father?”

“Not your concern,” he echoed, and then she kicked out, catching him by surprise as she coiled Force enhanced muscles to leap up and over him.

She landed on the back of Piett’s abandoned sofa and jumped once more to touch down on the gleaming conference table. 

The Admiral had made it back to his feet and she narrowly ducked his first shot, smelling her own hair burning before his second winged her arm. 

In fury she used the Force and squeezed her fist—-he cried out as she cracked his wrist audibly, causing him to drop the blaster.

She whipped around once more to face the young Skywalker and then….

_ Then _ .

It was as though a white hot personification of the Force had shot forth from one of the power panels. 

_ The ship. _

She managed to stop the energy beam, but only just. And  _ karking  _ hells, she was strong. Mara’s arm trembled and she knew that if she dropped it, her death awaited.

“No!” called Luke. “Lady, we need her alive! I have questions!”

And the beam was gone.

But the doors to the conference room hissed open, and even as Mara leapt to attack the young Jedi she felt a new surge of anger. 

She was thrown off of her landing by this new power and rolled instead, coming up this time to meet a white blade and burning brown eyes.

Organa.

She had heard rumors that the princess was coming into her heritage, but they had been that: rumors. 

This twin power was incredible. Never had she thought to feel anything like this. The princess’s presence was much like the ship--white and furious while her brother’s was intense and controlled. 

But she could not face both.

“I am not here for you!” she snapped.

“No,” Luke panted, pushing at her, trying to remove her blade from her hand with the Force. “You are here for our Father. We can’t allow that you know.”

“He is a genocidal war criminal!” she snapped, weaving and dodging. Yes, Mara Jade could take two to one, because she was the very best. 

“One you have no right to kill!” snapped the princess and under her fury, Mara could feel her concern for the Admiral who was continuing to be a problem and no doubt comming back up, despite the arm he held close to his chest.

Damn him.

“If anyone has that right, it is  _ me _ !” pressed Organa, and that surprised Mara. The  _ intensity  _ of that statement…..

“Then why haven’t you?” she called back, considering her escape routes.

“Because, he is different. Because I am not a murderer. Unlike you, apparently.”

The Alderaanian princess was as graceful as Mara herself and now both Skywalkers were advancing upon her….

“I have orders!” Mara flung at them desperately, because things were confused and muddled where once they were clear. 

YOU WILL KILL DARTH VADER.

But was he not already dead?

“Who  _ are  _ you?” Luke pressed, and he wasn’t afraid. No, he was actually curious and Mara could not deal with this.

Especially when she felt Organa reach for her mind, and how  _ dare  _ she…..!

Mara always had an out. She was forced to use it now.

Using her power, the assassin’s blades given her by the Noghri flew off her belt and sped toward the two Skywalkers and the Admiral. Even as they leapt to defend themselves and Piett, she was moving out of the conference room, using the Force to steal an officer’s cap off his head as she passed a group of them and she jammed it on, stuffing tendrils of red hair into it. She was already clad in black Imperial garb, and while it was slightly rumpled, she did not receive odd looks. 

Alarms were blaring around her in minutes, but Mara had her route now. And even the Lady could not use her technology to stop an Emperor’s Hand. 

Mara had to strain against her, but she resisted the Lady’s searching presence once more, hurrying to the hangar bay she had left her purloined TIE in. 

Once she had gone to hyper speed, she rested her head back against the seat.

Anakin had not been present. Her information had been wrong. More, she had mistaken the son for the Father in the Force. 

She thumped her head against the rest.  _ Was she slipping?  _

_ ‘Who are you?’  _ Luke Skywalker had asked. 

She was the Emperor’s Hand.

_ He is dead. _

But his command was not.

YOU WILL KILL DARTH VADER.

She must regroup. And make new plans.

  
  


*****

“Describe her,” his Father commanded and Luke obeyed.

“Red hair. Green eyes. Built like Leia, but a bit taller.”

His sister snorted in disgust from her place on the sofa in the Admiral’s conference room. Henley was finishing with a synth cast on Piett’s wrist, and she was warm at his side. Luke could still feel her cooling anger that their mystery woman had hurt her Admiral and judging from the variety of light flickers in the conference room, the Lady was quite agitated as well. 

Veers was pacing in front of them, blaster on his hip, while Han stood behind Leia, resting a hand on her shoulder. 

Anakin’s holo image was on the floor in front of the sofa.

He drew in a sharp breath.

“How would you describe her abilities?”

“The best,” Luke said simply. “If I didn’t have the Lady and Leia as back up…..”

His sister frowned and tightened her hold on Piett’s uninjured hand as Henley stepped back. 

“Jade,” breathed Anakin and Luke exchanged a look with Veers across the way.

“Who is that?” Leia asked, speaking for the first time.

“Mara Jade,” their Father responded, frowning. “She was known as the Emperor’s Hand. She was one of several, though I am not certain she knew that. Sidious liked to play little games like that---making someone feel as though they were special. Unique….” he trailed off.

“Why now, my Lord?” asked Piett. He was tired and bruised, but Luke had been deeply grateful for his presence and even more so that he had survived. He shuddered, imagining the combined anger and grief of Leia and the Lady had things not gone so well….

Still. The man was stalwart indeed, and Luke knew he was helping to steer Anakin away from darker thoughts, like the good friend that he was. 

“Why would she wait until now to try to kill you? Surely she had better opportunities earlier?”

“Jade is patient,” Luke’s Father said meditatively. “She was quite literally, the very best. You are correct in your assessment, Luke. And she is highly trained in the Force to be an assassin as well. Sidious used her often for precision jobs. The fact that she was able to hold off the Lady  _ and  _ battle two Jedi---well. That speaks for itself.”

“So how do we kill her?” Leia asked flatly, and Luke gave her a sharp look. She gave it back even as Han tightened his grip on her shoulder.

“Going right for extermination there, sweetheart?” he asked.

“My dear,” Piett said, turning to her, “even I could see that the woman was not able to handle both of you. And I confess that I am curious what drives her.”

“Particularly,” put in Veers, “if she is working on orders from someone else.”

Anakin looked at Veers thoughtfully with that statement. 

“Quite so, General.”

Henley coughed meaningly, and Anakin’s image raised an eyebrow at him.

“Did you have some thoughts on the matter, Doctor? Or is this your ever subtle way of reminding me that my Admiral ought to rest and get something to help him sleep?”

Luke grinned slightly at Piett’s rather put upon expression. Given the bruising up the right side of his face and the deep black eye, this expression was made somewhat more amusing.

“That…..was what I was going to mention, my Lord, but as per usual, you take perverse delight in co opting other’s thoughts,” Henley said acidly. 

“Are you really planning to walk onto the bridge tomorrow looking like you lost a fight with a mudhorn?” Veers asked, looking at his friend, and Han grinned brightly at this description.

“Yes that is a very excellent point,” Henley said. “Bacta really should happen, Admiral….”

“Are we recalling the Jedi assassin who just showed up on  _ my ship _ to kill Lord Vader?” Piett asked as crisply as possible with part of his lip swollen. 

“I will look into that,” Anakin said calmly. “What is the current status on the Lady?”

“Commander Fox is leading the security effort,” Veers offered. “He is working closely with Baldwin and the AI maintenance to see if there are ways we can stop Force users from preventing the Lady doing what she does.”

Luke pondered this and all its implications.

“Do we….think that is the best idea?” he asked the room in general.

Piett gave him a knowing look. “I understand your reservations, Commander. If this were merely an AI we were discussing I’d be inclined to agree. But we can trust the Lady.”

Luke appreciated the Admiral’s faith but still…..

“And if she decides that one of us Skywalkers is doing something she does not care for?”

Leia cocked her head, and Luke was sure there was a discussion going on.

“She says she has already dealt with situations where Skywalkers did things she didn’t care for. And won.”

Luke and his sister simultaneously looked at Anakin. 

The blue image flickered slightly. “She is….correct.  _ Won  _ is a strong word, Lady. You were….  _ Persuasive _ .”

Piett smiled suddenly and winced.

“I think that was the equivalent of a laugh. Would that be right, my dear?” he asked, turning to Leia.

“She definitely laughed,” his sister replied, smiling at her Admiral. “The point being, there’s not much we can do to help her with her systems, much as she appreciates it. Jade was just that strong and the Lady needs us to help against Force users. Besides, she can also warn the Admiral in future, now that she knows what Jade feels like.”

Anakin’s image nodded. “All right. I shall do some digging and return to you as soon as possible. Be safe all of you.” 

His image flickered out.

Luke crossed his arms in thought.  _ Green eyes and a fierce spirit easily the match of Leia’s….Her skill had been so impressive…. _

“...let me take care of that, Admiral dear,” his sister was saying as Luke shook himself. He wasn’t sure he liked how his thoughts were going. Leia, sensing this, gave him a swift side eye before returning her attention to Piett.

“I would not like you to exert yourself so much after your battle,” the Admiral again when Henley cut across.

“Bacta or princess power, Admiral. One or the other. Because while the General here may be amused by your appearance, I assure you the bridge crew will not stop staring.”

“I’m not amused that he was hurt,” Veers said indignantly, “just picturing the reaction and the stories he could tell gullible ensigns on how he acquired his injuries…...”

Piett sighed at his friend.

“Which we don’t want, Max, thank you. My dear, I would appreciate your assistance then.”

“Excellent,” said Han. “your quarters then, sir? And while she is healing you, I must say I’d love to try something ….”

He looked hopeful and Piett looked at Veers accusingly. “You told him. You’re the only one who knows I got a bottle of it.”

Veers gave an innocent shrug. 

“All right,  _ fine _ , Solo,” Piett said, rising carefully. “One drink. And I’m joining you. I think I deserve it after tonight.”

“Should I come now then?” Veers asked, smiling unapologetically.

Luke couldn’t resist ribbing their Admiral.

“I’d be interested in tasting this wonder alcohol as well,” he put in calmly.

Leia gave all of them an incredulous look. “This is not after battle drinks!” she exclaimed.

“Oh your Worship,” said Han at his most irrepressible, “that’s exactly what it is. Brave warriors need to toast their success. It’s a thing right?” he asked, appealing to the room.

“It is, as you so eloquently say, Solo, a ‘thing’,” Veers answered with dignity, but his grey eyes were sparkling. 

Luke moved to the doors.

“Come on sister of mine. You help our Admiral, he gets to relax in his own quarters, and the rest of us enjoy this excellent drink. Win all around.”

She looked predictably to Piett who smiled at her lopsidedly. “I don’t mind, my dear girl. A reminder that we are alive. Together.”

Leia touched his cheek gently before Luke felt her give in.

“All right then. But only because of  _ you _ dearest Admiral, and not the rest of these nerf herders.”

They all moved out into the corridor.

“Did I just get called a nerf herder?” Veers asked Luke quietly.

He grinned up at the General. “Yeah. She does that. It’s affectionate, I promise.”

And they followed the others to the Admiral’s quarters.

_ Mara Jade, _ thought Luke. He rather hoped they saw her again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hadn’t ever anticipated doing this. But..... here I am. 😂 doing it. Not sure where it will go but lots of possibilities have opened up.


	111. To Defend and Protect I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lieutenant Commander Scraps is in a difficult situation. He wants to protect an Admiral who struggles with being protected. And a situation arises....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is for JustJenn who gave me a prompt for more Scraps being awesome. What was meant as a one shot turned into a two shot and it narrowly escaped being a three shot. So thank you JustJenn, because this was grand fun to write!

A knock on his door frame, and Fox looked up to see the red head of Lieutenant Commander Scraps. 

Normally he might have told the young man to kriff off, that he was done for the day, but he was apparently getting soft as he got older and something in Scraps’ countenance told him he should hear what the man had to say.

“Sorry, sir, I know you are almost done with your shift. I just….I could use some advice, sir.”

_ Oh wonderful. That never meant good things. _

“I hope it involves weapons and tactics, Lieutenant Commander, because I don’t do much else.” Fox speared him with a stern look, leaning back in his chair and motioning Scraps further into his office.

The man’s green eyes told him that this was not the topic of their conversation. 

Groaning internally, Fox waited while Scraps gathered his thoughts.

“Sir, as you know I’m accompanying the Admiral for his visit to Testriel.”

Fox waited.

“I think it advisable to bring a full team, Commander.”

Fox raised his eyebrows. “All right. You don’t need my approval for those decisions, Scraps. Cut to the chase---what’s the issue?”

“The Admiral disagrees, sir.”

Because of course he did. Fox really did get it, he did. Clones had to fight for every bit of respect they could wrest from others. He could therefore very much understand that Outer Rimmers felt somewhat similar if for slightly different reasons. It was why he very much appreciated the frien--the  _ working  _ relationship he had with Commander Skywalker. 

Piett did not have the Force however, no matter the new  _ ability  _ that Lord Vader insisted that the Admiral had. 

Sensing it and being able to defend oneself with it were two very different things. 

“So?” Fox asked bluntly. “You’re the security lead. Even he does not get to tell you what to do here. If you think it’s necessary that’s it.”

Scraps sighed longsufferingly.

“He believes I am over estimating the danger, Commander.”

Fox squinted at him. “Are you?”

“I do not believe so. There has been increased anti-Republic sentiment in the sector. His position is that this planet is very friendly to us and more, an important source for durasteel. His concern is that a full team will make things much more complicated for them and imply distrust when we are trying to demonstrate the opposite.”

The balance between military necessity and diplomacy. Fox did not envy Piett his job and was aware the Admiral would happily turn such negotiations over to someone else if he could. Regardless, that was not Fox’s headache nor Scraps’. 

“You think an attack could be made on him to make a statement,” he guessed.

“Yes, sir.”

Fox waved a hand. “Done deal. The end. Full team.”

Scraps looked at the ceiling for answers. “He hates that.”

“Oh for….. Lieutenant Commander, I am not your camp counselor here.”

The man frowned at him. “I never said you were, sir. And….I never went to camp.”

“Neither did I. Well. Not that kind.” Fox raised an eyebrow and pointed a finger at him.

“The real issue here, Scraps, has nothing to do with your decision or assessment. You don’t like making him unhappy.”

And there. That. He  _ hated  _ that. They were verging into personal advice territory. Fox did not do that. 

The younger man bit his lip. “I’m willing to do so, sir, but it is true that, recently, he’s had most of the team on missions, and he’s feeling…”

“Do  _ not  _ use that word, Lieutenant Commander.”

Scraps paced the office. “Sorry, sir. His  _ assessment  _ is that, and I quote, ‘I’m being treated like a kriffing Luna vase and I don’t break easily for Force sake!’” 

Fox rubbed his forehead and closed his eyes.

“Lieutenant Commander. You know what you need to do. You are the one who has complicated this with getting….. _ attached _ .”

The man crossed his arms and frowned.

“Well of course I’m attached, sir, he’s our Admiral and I care that he stays safe….”

“Scraps….it’s more than that and we both know it. Do your damn job. And you asked for this detail. You were so  _ keen  _ to be lead. So lead. Or I can reassign you if you like.”

The utter look of outrage was almost worth it. 

“Sir! I’m not implying that at all, Commander.”

“Out.” Fox motioned with one hand, leaning his head on the other and not looking up. “Go. Shoo. Deal with your issues. Caring too much is not something I deal with, Scraps.”

“Yes, sir.”

He heard the younger man pause in the doorway.

“Wait. Sir. Are you seriously wanting me to believe that General Veers is just a job for you? Not  _ attached  _ there, sir?”   
  


Fox looked up and met the green eyes with blazing brown ones.

“Are you having the serious cheek to bring up my detail to me, Lieutenant Commander?”   
  


Scraps swallowed lightly. “I’m just saying sir…..that mission that went south on Kretzel 5….and you…”

“I’d stop right there if I were you, Scraps. I have the power to bust you to Ensign.”

Scraps gave him an infuriating smile. “Yes, sir. But…”

“Out.”

“Yes, sir.”

And he left at last. 

_Honestly_ , Scraps wasn’t a shiny anymore, one would think he could figure these things out. Piett was hardly a monster or an autocrat. He was indeed fiercely independent and stubborn to the point of folly, but Fox could relate to  _ that _ . Could respect it. The man cared too much though. And Scraps was clearly just as bad. It made both of them excellent leaders---Fox acknowledged this. The crew did exceedingly well knowing they were genuinely cared for. But it caused all sorts of pain for those who led.

Fox therefore made sure not to care too much. Much simpler frankly. He tapped his pad and pulled up Veers’ current location. Looked like a training session in Hangar 16. There. Simple and no sentiment attached. Though Kretzel 5 had been bad indeed, and he recalled all over again the moment that Veers had been carried in, covered in blood….

The General was training in Hangar 16. Fox was off duty now and he clearly needed a workout with a young Jedi to get his mind off pathways that were not helpful.

  
  


*****

Scraps stood a respectful four feet behind his commanding officer as the Admiral spoke with the Milesary. This was the title for the planetary representative of Testriel. 

They were concluding day two of the Admiral’s visit and thus far, everything seemed to be in order and perfectly straight forward. 

Piett had been calm and assured as he spoke with the political leadership on the first day, soothing any ruffled feathers due to the upheaval in the sector. He had also had to explain why he had a full security detail and worked very hard to reassure them that it was not the good folks of Testriel that the Republic did not trust.

He had navigated those turbulent waters with a mild and pleasant countenance, and not once had he glanced at Scraps to give him any sort of an ‘I told you so’ look. 

The Lieutenant Commander himself was feeling badly enough as it was that Piett was having to deal with that on top of everything else he was here to negotiate. 

And he  _ hated  _ how things stood between himself and the Admiral. Oh Piett would never be malicious or seek small ways of retribution for having his wishes overridden. He was just the opposite--scrupulously polite and accommodating for all of Scraps’ suggestions or instruction for how the day’s security details should look. 

But that was the problem. He was by the book. And utterly impersonal.

Scraps recalled their meeting shortly before departing for Testriel with misery.

_ “Sir.” _

_ “Ah Scraps. I just got your message. Hangar bay 7 then? I don’t recall having my lamda moved there.” _

_ “No sir, apparently it was transferred several weeks ago.” _

_ Piett had looked at him quizzically as he placed some of his tea into the compact case he was packing.  _

_ “Who authorized that?” _

_ “Lord Vader, sir.” _

_ “Oh Force,” the Admiral had groaned, though Scraps rather suspected it was only half hearted and not really a displeased one. “What’s he done to it? He’s done something hasn’t he?” _

_ “I took the liberty of asking the deck crew to check it over, sir. They said everything is ship shape, Admiral.” _

_ “Hmmmm.” Piett gave him a small smile and a skeptical eyebrow. “I suppose we’ll find out how accurate that is. Is Weston meeting us there?” _ _  
  
_

_ And the moment had come and Scraps had steeled himself because he so appreciated the friendly feel of this conversation and he was about to kill that dead.  _

_ “Yes, sir. As well as the others, Admiral. We’re taking the full team sir.” _

_ A beat. _

_ “I see,” Piett said quietly, looking down at his case. He took a visible breath and then looked up again.  _

_ “Well. I should finish up then. Have all the members of the detail read up on Testriel and its customs?” _

_ “Yes, sir.” _

_ “And you have made them aware of the rather tense position they find themselves in?” _ _  
  
_

_ “Yes, Admiral.” _

_ “Excellent work, Lieutenant Commander.” _

_ And he had been pleasant and calm---not a word to indicate his displeasure. But Scraps had been ‘Lieutenant Commander’ from that moment. _

Piett had just concluded day two of the visit----meeting with countless business leaders who all had a stake in the durasteel industry in numerous ways. The Milesary was informing him what the next day’s schedule would look like and Scraps realized quite suddenly that this was the second time Piett had carefully rubbed at his temple….. _.damn it.  _

The Admiral’s migraines had been somewhat improved in the past few years, and in the year and a half that Scraps had led his detail, he could count on one hand the amount of times he’d actually witnessed any coming on. 

He thought rapidly through all their supplies. He had packed a dose of the migraine medication but it was back at their quarters. Piett often had one on him as well. The fact that the Admiral was rubbing at his temple indicated however, that he hadn’t taken it. 

Surely the damn Milesary could wrap things up. The Admiral had been at it for 12 hours for kriff’s sake. 

Scraps risked a soft cough, but other than the Milesary shooting him a stern look nothing changed. Then he was given to understand there was one more representative who wanted to speak with Piett, and the Milesary was handing him a datapad that he needed to peruse for the next days’ concluding meeting and final agreement on durasteel. 

The Admiral looked strained to Scraps’ eye and there went his hand again, up to his head. Scraps dared to step close to his back.

“Do you have your medication on you, sir?” he asked very softly as they made their way to the conference room once more.

“No,” Piett answered curtly.

_ Well this was going to be terrible then.  _ But his Admiral had known worse stress and carried on like the professional he was. Scraps had never asked Piett what it had been like to work under the Empire, not feeling that it was his right to know. But he was curious. He could imagine how bad it had been. Certainly he knew about Piett’s promotion for that had become legend on the Lady.

_ A comms officer he’d talked to about it, had shaken his head. _

_ “Look, it was bad ok? I think one of the only things that stood between us and disaster then was the Admiral. And he jumped five ranks that day, Lieutenant Commander. I don’t like to even remotely ponder his burdens. Why are you asking anyway?” _

_ “I want to understand the man I’m protecting.” _

_ “Well that’s good. Remind him to sleep maybe? I don’t think the guy gets enough.” _

By the time the last meeting finished, Scraps could see that Piett was struggling. 

They said their goodbyes to the diplomats and the Milesary before heading back to the quarters they’d been given. 

Piett didn’t speak at all in the speeder that took them back and he looked rather white now. 

Scraps sent Weston, Kellum and Yang to get some grub and then patrol. He stationed Hatley at the entrance and followed the Admiral into the comfortable living area.

The Admiral had been given an entire home compound to himself and it was very pleasant and private, which Scraps could appreciate. It was connected by a short hallway to smaller rooms where he and the rest of the detail slept.

Piett removed his cap and stood still for a moment in the center of the room.

“You can take a break, Lieutenant Commander. I have that briefing to read.”

“Thank you, sir.” 

Like _hells_ was he going to let Piett do that. He looked terrible. Scraps moved to his own quarters swiftly and retrieved the migraine hypo.

He returned to find that Piett had at least seated himself on the sofa, but was bent over with his elbows on his knees, hands holding his head tightly. 

“Sir….”

He looked up with red rimmed eyes and squinted at Scraps.

“Lights half,” the younger man commanded immediately and the room dimmed. 

“I have a dose of your medication sir. I wish there was more and I apologize for not having it.”

Normally Piett packed it himself, but Scraps was not bringing that up. 

“You have a….? Thank you, I would appreciate it.”   
  


Scraps pressed it home in his neck, but it would take a while to start working given how far advanced this was.

“Will you lie down, Admiral?”

Piett sighed. “I have this briefing….”

“Sir. Surely that can wait until the morning. You’re not in a fit state…”   
  


Piett’s lips compressed and for a moment, Scraps could see the stubborn fire in the hazel eyes that spoke of a fight. But then his shoulders slumped. 

“Yes, all right.  _ Force _ , I’m an idiot.”

This startled Scraps.

“Sir….”

“I’m glad one of us was thinking, Lieutenant Commander. Thank you for having some of my medication. I completely forgot to pack it.”

There was something in his tone that gave Scraps hope and he decided to push his luck slightly. He knelt in front of Piett and tugged at the left boot.

“Let’s get these off, sir.”

He waited to be waved away but received a quiet ‘thank you’ instead, so he finished swiftly and set the boots on the floor at the end of the sofa. 

“Jacket, sir?” he asked, and Piett managed a slightly twisted smile which turned into a grimace of pain.

“Yes, please,” he managed and undid the belt and latches so that Scraps could ease it off his shoulders.

“All right then, sir,” he said, laying the jacket over the back of a chair and moving to the kitchen where he found a towel which he get wet and then filled a glass of water.

He returned to the common area. “Please lie down Admiral,” he entreated, seeing that Piett was still where he had left him.

His commanding officer sighed, but obeyed, gingerly stretching himself out along the length of the sofa. 

Scraps took off his own jacket though he kept his blaster at his hip.

“Helluva time for one of these,” Piett admitted, closing his eyes and Scraps laid the cold wet towel over his forehead. Piett twitched in surprise, then relaxed.

“That….thank you.”

He was silent as Scraps trotted into the Admiral’s sleeping quarters and retrieved the duvet, bringing it to tuck over the man.

After he had coaxed him into drinking some water, Piett spoke again through a clenched jaw.

“Please….Matthew, can you make sure it’s just you? I….don’t want the others to see me like this. I know it’s my kriffing pride, but I….”

“Of course, sir,” he said, heart easing ridiculously at being referred to by his first name.

“I forgot to pack the damn medication because I was angry,” Piett confessed as Scraps dipped the towel in the ice water he’d made swiftly in a bowl, and replaced it on the Admiral’s head. “I was packing and you told me…..” he trailed off, opening his eyes to meet Scraps’ sympathetic gaze. 

“I was determined not to fight with you and I just….forgot. And now you have to play nursemaid because I am indeed a stubborn bastard.”

Scraps smiled at him broadly. “Sir, most of the time, I’m deeply grateful that you are. And….I’m sorry, sir. I know this isn’t what you want. And I’ve seen the complications for you because of it. I’m sorry it’s made your job harder.”

“It’s not your fault the Testrial people are feeling very sensitive about their standing at the moment,” Piett told him tiredly. Scraps wrung the towel out again and this time slid a careful hand beneath Piett’s head so he could hold the cold fabric against the Admiral’s neck. 

“ _Hells_ ,” Piett breathed. “That’s good. But you should get some rest, Matthew. Long day tomorrow and you’ve been with me all day….””   
  


“I’m not the one talking to everyone and trying to hold all their emotions and interests together with spit and space tape sir,” Scraps told him. “Please let me do this for you, Admiral.”   
  


Piett smiled slightly. “Matthew….I’m not trying to make your life difficult you know. I just...I’m not….”

He paused, and Scraps felt emboldened. “I do know sir. I do understand that for a man who has always defended himself and protected _others_ , it is terrifically difficult to be the one protected.”   
  


Hazel eyes met his and Piett raised his eyebrows at this statement. “Yes,” he murmured, “that is it, exactly.”   
  


“I wish I could make it easier on you, sir,” Scraps said, wringing the cloth out again and returning it to his Admiral’s forehead. Piett closed his eyes once more.

“You are, Scraps. I’m just not very good at helping in making things easier.”

  
  
Well that wasn’t true, but Piett was also relaxing more, and Scraps hoped the medication was at least taking the worst edge off. 

“You chose not to fight me on it, sir,” he said. “I really do appreciate that, Admiral. Though….”

Piett sighed. “Lay it on me, Lieutenant Commander. Veers says I’m worse than he is and that I should discuss this with you more. Have at it---I can’t go anywhere.”

Scraps hid a smile at this unexpected support from the General. 

“It’s nothing huge, sir. I just…..may I speak freely, sir?”

“Mmm. You’re one of the few who can, Scraps.”

“Then frankly, Admiral, I have to admit I prefer it when we just openly clash because you being scrupulously polite to me is just….”

Piett cracked one eye open to look at him. 

“And here I thought I was doing remarkably well at reigning in my temper.”

Scraps smiled at this, feeling deeply fond of his commander. “You are very good at it, sir. But…..when we’re  _ disagreeing  _ on something for your protection, I prefer it when I’m just 'Matthew' and you’re  _ you _ , and not just the Admiral.”

“A fair fight without the rank,” Piett said knowingly.

“Yes, sir,” Scraps said, removing the towel. “How’s the pain now, Admiral? Would a regular painkiller help at this point?”

Piett considered this. “I think so, though it might send me over into sleep at this point.”

“I consider that an excellent side benefit, sir,” Scraps replied, rising to go and fetch another hypo. He paused to tap commands to his team on the datapad. He would take the personal watch for the night. The others could rotate as usual. 

He returned to the sofa and administered the painkiller. He was rewarded with the immediate bleeding out of tension from Piett and the Admiral sighed again.

“ _ Force _ . I can’t tell you the relief of that…”

“I’m going to start carrying two doses of your medication on me at all times, sir. Because it’s not fun for me to watch either. Would you like me to help you to your room?”

“Sofa’s perfect,” Piett murmured, eyes closed once more. “Thank you for everything, Matthew.”

Scraps considered Fox’s words on being attached. It was certainly much harder to deal with things because of that. But also far more rewarding. And this man currently meant the most to him in the galaxy.

“I am very happy to help, sir,” he said patting the Admiral’s arm and Piett smiled broadly as Scraps settled himself in the big chair opposite the sofa, stretching his legs out in front of him. 

He’d be right here if the Admiral needed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will also congratulate Scraps on his promotion to Lieutenant Commander. :) I've so enjoyed growing this character. And I discovered that I like another one I created in part II! :)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Trouble Magnet](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24669931) by [morwen_of_gondor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/morwen_of_gondor/pseuds/morwen_of_gondor)
  * [The Next Best Thing to an Honourable Friend](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26146273) by [morwen_of_gondor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/morwen_of_gondor/pseuds/morwen_of_gondor)
  * [Dr. Henley’s Dinner Appointment](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27641137) by [mathmusic8](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mathmusic8/pseuds/mathmusic8)




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